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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794044">The One | Harmony</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldMeetsAuburn/pseuds/EmeraldMeetsAuburn'>EmeraldMeetsAuburn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Gang Rape, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Soul Bond, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, True Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:15:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldMeetsAuburn/pseuds/EmeraldMeetsAuburn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The war left deep scars on the Wizarding World, the deepest on the two remaining members of the ripped Golden Trio. Ron's death devastates Hermione, who seeks comfort in Harry only to find that she loves him. But he is hesitant; he's oblivious. A mysterious light flashes...</p><p>Seven years on, David Walker runs into Freya White, who is an actress and is making her way up the ladder. The two fall in love with each other. But unbeknownst to them, heinous games are going on behind the big screen...</p><p>Will Harry &amp; Hermione ever be able to unite?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Obliviated</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Welcome to </strong> <em> <strong>The One</strong> </em> <strong>. This is a Harmony Fanfiction dealing with post-war emotions &amp; trauma.</strong></p><p><strong>Huge, huge, </strong> <em> <strong>huge </strong> </em> <strong>thanks to Witherwings01 of FF.net for the starting bits of this chapter. Check out their </strong> <em> <strong>Better Never than Late</strong> </em> <strong>. It's one of the best fics I've read (unfortunately, they've left it incomplete).</strong></p><p><strong>Of course, I do</strong> <em> <strong> not </strong> </em> <strong>own </strong> <em> <strong>Harry Potter</strong> </em> <strong>. It all belongs to the fantastic mind of JK Rowling.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>You can also read this fic on Wattpad (@EmeraldMeetsAuburn), FF.net (@hpbbladepkmnmcufan) and HPFF.com (@HarmonyForever).</strong>
</p><p><strong>And one thing, in this fic, </strong> <em> <strong>Hermione is beautiful</strong> </em> <strong>. She is gorgeous just like she was in the films (thanks to whoever chose to cast Emma Watson, though I doubt they would've known that she'd grow up into a woman of such breathtaking beauty at that time). Or maybe I should simply say that Emma </strong> <em> <strong>is</strong> </em> <strong> Hermione in this fic. The reason shall become clear as the story progresses.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>Now, without any further ado...</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>On with the fic!</strong>
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>[2nd May, 1998]</strong>
</p><p>Darkness. Complete darkness. And a silence. A silence <em>so</em> silent that it <em>screamed</em>.</p><p>
  <em>The vilest creature on Earth strode into the confines of what remained of the school's courtyard, countless robed figures behind him. Among them was the unmistakable bulk of Rubeus Hagrid. Ankles shackled, he had an awkward, shuffling gait. His usually friendly, beetle black eyes, just visible behind the tangle of hair and beard, looked hollow. Utterly hollow. Full of tears. His arms, however, had been left unbound and cradled tenderly the reason for his hollow look.</em>
</p><p>The limp form of Harry James Potter.</p><p>No! No! No way! It-it c-can't be! It can't be! <em>The words repeated over and over again in the prison of her mind as she refused to accept what her senses were telling her. </em>It simply...can't be. It's-it's impossible! I would've...I would've known if he...if he...</p><p>
  <em>A single tear rolled down her cheek, tracing whatever path it could find in the mixture of dirt and grime that coated her face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And then the final blow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"HARRY POTTER... IS DEAD!"</em>
</p><hr/><p>As soon as the words left Voldemort's cursed lips, lightning struck. The soul got sucked out of Hermione Jean Granger. Her mind fell into a pit of darkness; all of the knowledge, the intellect, the wits that she'd possessed, <em>vanished</em>. Simply vanished. As if they had never even existed.</p><p>She didn't know why. She didn't even care to know why. But the words drained her. Completely.</p><p>Unaware to her, she had slumped to the ground, the strong hands of Ron Weasley trying their best to support her <em>lifeless</em> body.</p><p>As the crushing reality of the loss of her - ... <em>friend</em>, for the lack of a better term - descended upon her, the dam broke, sending a torrential flow of water streaming down her face.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>"Where've you been?" she asked, out of breath, getting up hurriedly upon seeing Harry approach them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I thought you went to the Forest," said Ron.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'm going there now."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Are you mad? No... You can't give yourself up to him!" Ron started advancing in a bid to stop him. A slender hand caught him, nudging him to stand back. She walked towards Harry herself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What is it, Harry?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What is it you know?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He turned and looked down. His eyes had the slightest hint of tears.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"There's a reason I can hear them. The Horcruxes." [Pause]</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I think I've known for a while. And I think you have, too."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That was it. The end.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All those long hours of continuously denying rationality were nothing but a waste of time. All of it was in vain.</em>
</p><p>Harry Potter was a Horcrux.</p><p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjU0YyssjAk">I'll Go With You | Harmony</a>
</p><hr/><p>Hermione knew. She knew that Harry was a Horcrux - she knew he had to die. The rational part of her mind had accepted it, but the emotional part resisted valiantly. It refused; refused to digest. It kept hoping for something to happen. A miracle.</p><p>Unlike her mind, which offered little resistance, her heart revolted. It was ready to instigate a coup. Though she didn't accept it, her heart had always been Harry's prisoner.</p><p>Yes, she did have feelings for Ron; yes, she did love him. But it was different, <em>very</em> different from what she felt for Harry.</p><p>She had spent the better part of the last few years trying to convince herself that what was between her and Harry was a form of platonic love. Strong, pure platonic love and nothing else. But this challenged her thinking.</p><p>Right now, she was shattered.</p><p>She took one look at Harry. He was seemingly unharmed. Only <em>one</em> curse could leave the victim utterly unharmed and yet be the most lethal.</p><p>Slowly her mind began to resurrect itself. As it did so, it became aware of a voice. The same voice that took everything from her. The same voice that took <em>Harry </em>from her.</p><p>"Harry Potter is dead!" proclaimed Voldemort, turning towards his Death Eaters. Laughter ran through the ranks.</p><p>Turning back to the protectors of Hogwarts, he spat, "You see? Harry Potter, The <em>Boy Who Lived </em>is dead!" highlighting the irony. "Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing but a boy who relied on <em>others </em>to sacrifice themselves <em>for him</em>!"</p><p>"He beat you!" yelled a very familiar voice at her side.</p><p>A torrent of sound erupted from the survivors on the heels of Ron's proclamation, who, Hermione now realised was the owner of the pair of hands which had prevented her fall. For a moment, she felt a brief surge of gratitude towards her...<em>lover</em>.</p><p>That respite, however, was fleeting, as the grief of the loss of Harry took over once again. But this time, it was different.</p><p>A murderous rage filled her; one so powerful that it would've truly frightened her had her rational mind retained any semblance of control. For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger knew what it meant to experience true hatred. Pure, unadulterated <em>hatred</em>.</p><p>While she allowed the feeling to fill her insides, the words that Bellatrix Lestrange had once spoken to Harry reverberated in her mind as she formed a new plan of action. "<em>You need to mean them. You need to really want to cause pain - to enjoy it.</em>"</p><p>A powerful explosion from the tip of the Elder Wand silenced the masses.</p><p>"He was killed while trying to<em> sneak </em>out of the grounds," continued Voldemort serenely. "Killed whilst attempting to flee - "</p><p>"LIES!" Hermione couldn't prevent the word from exploding past her lips.</p><p>Voldemort broke off, his scarlet eyes narrowing as he turned his serpent-like face towards the source of the shouted outburst. "And what do we have here?" he said, his voice a dangerous, soft hiss. "A volunteer to show what happens to those who dare to challenge me?"</p><p>Hermione was breathing in short, ragged gasps as if she had just run a marathon, but did not flinch under Voldemort's appraising stare.</p><p>"Hermione?" Ron's voice was barely a whisper in her ear, "What are you doing? You know Harry wouldn't want - "</p><p>"Don't talk about him like you knew him!" screeched Hermione, apoplectic. Shaking herself free of her lover's grasp, she stood straight and took a defiant stride forward making herself known to the Dark Lord.</p><p>A cruel smirk twisted Voldemort's features. "A little girl?" he taunted, a wave of mirthless laughter erupting from the ranks of his Death Eaters. "Brave...but foolish of you, child. No mortal can challenge me now."</p><p>But Hermione wasn't listening anymore. She cared little for the army of Death Eaters who would surely strike her down the moment she so much as raised her wand. Nor did she concern herself with the remaining Horcrux that anchored Voldemort to life, safe with Nagini, who lay coiled some ten metres behind the monster himself. Right now all she wanted to do was cause Voldemort as much pain &amp; suffering as she was able to bring to bear upon him - to watch him die a drawn-out, protracted and agonising death, even if she could not truly rid the world of his evil. In fact, maybe it was better he was immortal? That way she could kill him a thousand times over until he too knew the extent of the pain, the crushing emptiness she felt right now. Only then she might show him the mercy he had never shown his victims and end his existence once &amp; for all.</p><p>As if in slow motion, and without conscious effort, she levelled her wand arm towards Voldemort, ready to unleash the vile energies of the same curse he had obviously used upon Harry. <em>Her </em>Harry.</p><p>She opened her mouth, and channelling all the rage &amp; hatred, she spoke the incantation that would end his reign of terror.</p><p>However, just at that moment, several things appeared to happen at once as if someone had hit the fast forward button on a Muggle video player so that even with the benefit of hindsight, she still could not say precisely how events had unfolded.</p><p>To a man, every one of Voldemort's Death Eaters unleashed a barrage of energy towards her, the curses devouring the distance between them before she had so much as completed the first word of the most unforgivable of all curses, whilst out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure move towards her in a flat run.</p><p>"Hermione, No!"</p><p>She just had time to register the voice as Neville Longbottom's before she was tackled to the ground, the Death Eaters' curses sizzling past overhead.</p><p>A grunt of pain escaped Hermione's lips as she and Neville landed in a heap on the unyielding stone, the immediate loosening of his protective hold on her upper torso informing her that the fall had likely knocked her fellow Gryffindor unconscious. Still securely clasped in his right hand which pinned her to the ground, however, was a piece of tatty fabric that Hermione initially took to be just that, before she finally recognised what it was - the Sorting Hat. Although what Neville was doing with the magical relic which had once belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself was of little concern to her; her eyes scanned the faceless crowd for a glimpse of Voldemort so that she might finish the job. She did not register the weight of the most valuable piece of silver in the world materialising within the confines of the Hat.</p><p>Just then a new voice rang out across the near-silent crowd.</p><p>The <em>body</em> jumped out of Hagrid's arms and rolled on the ground before standing up, it's wand on the mark.</p><p>"Leave her alone, Riddle!"</p><p>Time snapped back to its normal rate of progression and Hermione's heart soared as her brain registered the most beautiful sound in the world, the darkness within her dissipating as quickly as it had arisen.</p><p>
  <em>He's alive!</em>
</p><hr/><p>It was over. The war was over. The prophecy had been fulfilled.</p><p>The Light had won.</p><p>But for Hermione Jean Granger, the Light had lost. The flame had been extinguished. The dazzling white of the Good had been overshadowed - no, <em>devoured </em>- by the ghastly green of the <em>Curse</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Ronald Bilius Weasley was dead.</em>
</p><hr/><p>Harry had no time for celebrating the final vanquishing of Tom Riddle. No, he did not <em>want </em>to. He simply couldn't.</p><p>It was as if Death was not content with robbing the Weasleys of only one son.</p><p>Ron was dead. His first friend, his best mate was dead. Killed by the same curse which <em>started </em>it all.</p><p>His eyes watered upon seeing the faces of the mourning members of the family he had come to call his own, and the look of utter devastation on Molly Weasley's once motherly visage made his heart ache.</p><p>He took one last look at Ron's face before it was covered with a white sheet, which Arthur Weasley draped over his body with numb hands.</p><p>That look reminded him of something. Of <em>someone.</em></p><p>
  <em>Hermione.</em>
</p><p>She stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, watching as her just-a-few-hours-old boyfriend's body was covered, his face to be never revealed ever again. The blank look on her face said it all.</p><p>A thousand daggers ran through whatever was left of Harry's heart.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Hermione!</em>
</p><p>He turned his head back, looking down and squeezing his eyes tight to prevent the dam from breaking. He had a very strong urge to get up and run, run away from it, away from all, away from... away from... <em>Hermione</em>.</p><p>But suddenly, a second voice spoke in his head. A new, unfamiliar voice. A very calm, serene, <em>feminine </em>voice.</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No, Harry. You can't do this. You can't run away from Hermione.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I-I have to. I have to! I-i c-can't...I can't!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yes you can.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All of t-this is-is because of me! If I had never been born, none of this would've happened.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It's not your fault, Harry.</em>
</p><p><em>Yes it is! It is every bit my fault, every inch of it! All of this is because of me! Ron is dead BECAUSE OF ME! </em>Harry mentally screamed at the voice, panting. His inner breath was of short, ragged gasps.</p><p>There was a long pause.</p><p>
  <em>I have only one thing to say, Harry.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She needs you...</em>
</p><p>That was it. <em>Hermione</em>. She needed someone to come out of it. She needed someone who could be her rock. She needed <em>him</em>.</p><p>Harry turned around once again to find her in the exact same state as before. Hermione Granger, the one who he trusted with all his heart, the one who stood with him no matter what, the one who was his...<em>rock</em>, had been destroyed. Today, she needed her own rock, one who would pull her out of this.</p><p>And it was Harry Potter.</p><p>Steeling his resolve, he got up, sniffled in his tears, and walked up to Hermione.</p><hr/><p>Hermione had been lifeless. Not a single word came out of her mouth. Nor did any tears out of her eyes.</p><p>Harry had spent the entire day sitting with her on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room. Not a word was exchanged between them. He held her, rubbing his hand across arms while they both stared endlessly into the crackling flames of the fireplace. He eventually dozed off and woke up the next day to find her in the exact same state as the previous day. She hadn't moved an inch.</p><p>Madam Pomfrey sent them each a set of fresh clothes. While Harry went to freshen up and change, Hermione remained as it is. When she didn't answer to his wheedling, he picked her up bridal style and carried her to the Seventh Year boys' dorm, earning frightening glares from her. Neville was inside when they got in.</p><p>"Er...Neville..." said Harry, placing Hermione down on the bed reserved for him.</p><p>"I got it, Harry," he replied with a small smile. "I understand that you two need your privacy. I've asked everyone to take anything they left here to the Room of Requirement."</p><p>"It's still working? I mean, it was set on fire while we were looking for <em>that</em> object..."</p><p>"Dean checked it in the morning after Madam Pomfrey released him. It's perfectly ok."</p><p>Harry gave a small smile.</p><p>"Neville?"</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>Neville lifted his trunk, smiled back and left.</p><p>Hermione watched silently as Harry went down and brought her clothes back.</p><p>"Alright, are you changing your clothes or not?"</p><p>She responded by averting her gaze.</p><p>"Fine," he sighed, "I guess I'll have to change them myself."</p><p>She glared at him. He could see several emotions running through her eyes. Pain, anger and... <em>fear</em>.</p><p>Sensing her unease, he tried to lighten the atmosphere a bit. "It's not that I haven't seen you without clothes," he said, referring to the Horcrux hunt.</p><p>The ghost of a smile grazed Hermione's lips, and for a second her eyes lit up. But only for a second. The pain that the war had inflicted upon her dominated again.</p><p>He undressed her slowly, taking everything off until only her undergarments were left. Putting down the pile, he looked up and was dumbfounded.</p><p>Yes, he had seen her like this when they were on the run. But this was totally different. He couldn't help thinking, "<em>She's beautiful.</em>" Her arms were so slender, so fragile. Her body was curved at just the right places. Her neck, her collarbones... All the grime and dirt only seemed to accentuate her beauty.</p><p>Upon seeing him stare at her, she gave a slightly questioning look. He immediately snapped out of his reverie.</p><p>"Oh... er... take this and go shower," he said, passing her a towel. When she didn't move, he sighed once again, helped her to her feet and walked her to the bathroom. He hung the towel on a peg, turned on the water and stepped out, pushing her inside.</p><p>But when he didn't hear any sounds of washing or scrubbing even after three whole minutes had passed, he asked anxiously, "Hermione?" When he got no reply, he pulled the curtains apart to find her standing as it is, the water simply rolling down her skin.</p><p>Harry gulped. He knew what he had to do; he'd have to wash her.</p><p>Sighing, he turned off the water, picked up the bar of soap and touched it to her skin, looking for any sign of discomfort. Finding none, he began running the bar in gentle circles around her back.</p><p>Done with her backside, he turned her around by the arms and began on her front. Every touch sent shivers down his spine. He'd have to leave her private parts, there was no way he was gonna do that. Her shins, her thighs (brr...), her belly, her arms, her neck... Running his hands along her curves sent blood rushing into his lower region. But the hardest part was yet to come. When it dawned upon him that he'd have to wash her breasts, his mind froze. <em>What!? No!</em></p><p>He looked up at her with horror. But she wasn't frightened. Hell, she wasn't even surprised. She had an <em>expectant </em>look. Her eyes pored into his expectantly.</p><p>His trembling fingers reached behind her back and fumbled with the clasp of her bra. He spent a good minute trying to figure out what to do and how to curb the growing stiffness in his pants, but it was no good. Exhaling deeply, he closed his eyes, steadied his hands and unhooked it, letting it fall off to the ground.</p><p>He felt around for the bar of soap, grasped it with the tips of his fingers and began rubbing.</p><p>Once his pinky finger accidentally touched one of her nipples. That sent an uncontrolled amount of electricity through his nerves, making him wince. Then it struck him. The nipple he had brushed against was hard.</p><p>
  <em>Wait what!?</em>
</p><p>His eyes flew open, and he found her eyes shut, a canine biting her lower lip. He was shocked.</p><p>She was enjoying it.</p><p>That did it. He was fully erect.</p><p>He was in a dilemma. His body had every intention of pouncing on the epitome of feminine beauty in front of it and devouring it, claiming it. But his mind revolted. <em>No! No way! Harry James Potter how dare you! That's downright taking advantage of her fragile state! Besides, she's your best friend! She-she...loves Ron! Ron loves her you bloody git! His soul loves her! How dare you even think of doing anything!</em></p><p>Reason won over urge in the end. He shook off all of his primal thoughts and used every bit of self-control he had to finish the job. Opening the valve once again, he got out hurriedly.</p><p>He stepped in once again after a few minutes, turned off the water, unhooked the towel &amp; held it out to her, trying his best to keep his eyes trained on her face and not letting them wander down to her bosom.</p><p>But when she remained expressionless and didn't make a move (which had become cliché by now), he gulped once again.</p><p>"Mione, towel yourself off."</p><p>No response. Only her eyes pored into his even more than they already had.</p><p>He knew what to do.</p><p>Gingerly, he inched forward and began drying her. Again, he had to close his eyes and look away while rubbing her soft breasts to avoid <em>those </em>thoughts. He then wrapped the towel around her and guided her into the room.</p><p>By now he knew it was no use saying anything to her; he knew he'd have to dress her up.</p><p>He took the towel off her and knelt down. He shut his eyes tight and fumbled with the band of her wet knickers, pulling them down and then using the towel to dry her bum. He reached out for the fresh ones and lifted her legs one by one, sliding the cloth up to her waist. Then he stood up to put on the new bra.</p><p>After about 10 minutes he was done.</p><hr/><p>A few days passed just like that. All students had been sent home, except the ones who didn't have any close family members available. Harry and Hermione had the whole Gryffindor Tower to themselves. The Weasleys had tried to persuade them into coming with them, but Harry refused, citing Hermione's state.</p><p>One day became two, two became three and so on until 6 whole weeks had passed and it was mid-June.</p><p>Hermione had become too fragile physically, and Harry had to do everything for her, from washing to dressing. She couldn't walk two steps without faltering, and so he had to be at her side at all times.</p><p>She refused all food unless Harry fed her himself. The only spots where she could be found were the couch in the Common Room and the windowsill in the Seventh Year boys' dorm, where she &amp; Harry had made themselves home. Every night Harry tucked her in the bed reserved for his deceased best friend, though he doubted she ever caught even an hour of shut-eye.</p><p>All of their conversations were one-sided, with Hermione's only responses being imperceptible nods &amp; shakes of her head, with the slightest hint of a smile making an appearance once in a blue moon.</p><p>The professors had left the remaining two members of Hogwarts' Golden Trio alone, understanding their mental condition. They had busied themselves in helping the newly formed Ministry under Kingsley Shacklebolt rebuild the damaged structures. Food was sent to the two magically and the house-elves did the laundry.</p><p>On the first day of their seventh week, he managed to coax her into going out of the Tower. They both strolled down to the Black Lake, his right arm wrapped strongly around her back to support her. He settled down under the shade of a tree and pulled her onto the soft grass as well, resting her head on his shoulder whilst she gazed thoughtlessly at the small ripples on the otherwise serene surface of the majestic body of water.</p><p>They spent around an hour in silence before Harry turned his head to look at Hermione. He sighed and was about to move when something caught his eye.</p><p>Something had been carved into the wood just above her head. Nostalgia flooded his senses as his eyes moistened.</p><p>"Hermione?" No response.</p><p>"Hermione?" Still no response.</p><p>"Hermione," he said one last time, giving her a gentle nudge and breaking her painful reverie.</p><p>"Hmm?" she murmured, looking up to find Harry staring with glistening eyes at something behind her.</p><p>She turned around and the sight brought tears to her eyes.</p><p>Carved in a very delicate manner was a heart, with J + L inscribed in it. She immediately knew what the initials meant.</p><p>
  <em>James + Lily = True Love</em>
</p><p>A single tear rolled down Harry's face, at which she turned his head back towards him and wiped it off, shaking her head to ask him not to cry. She placed her hand behind his neck.</p><p>Suddenly, they both realised that they were too close; their lips were mere inches away.</p><p>Sparks ran through their bodies, shaking them to the very core. Harry valiantly fought the extreme urge to lean down. Her eyes fluttered to his lips and then back to his eyes. Her lips parted involuntarily. His eyes, too, glanced down at her lips. Her irresistibly soft &amp; supple, divinely feminine lips.</p><p>He looked into her eyes and found thousands of emotions swirling through them. Pain, joy, care, nervousness - all of them. But there was <em>one </em>particular emotion he couldn't pinpoint. No matter how hard he tried, it kept evading him.</p><p>When nothing happened even after a whole minute had passed, a fleeting sense of fear &amp; despair crossed her auburn eyes. Sensing it, Harry made to say something but was silenced by her forefinger on his lips.</p><p>"Shhh..."</p><p>She gently removed the finger and rested her head on his chest, rubbing her palm below his shoulder.</p><p>He wrapped his arms around her protectively and pulled her onto his lap, resting his cheek on her head. For the first time since the end of the war, she smiled a genuine, satisfied smile.</p><hr/><p>When Harry woke up, the sun was already setting, its last rays glimmering on the surface of the Lake. Something shone brightly in his eyes, and a warm &amp; fuzzy ball rested safely in the fortress of his arms. He looked down to find Hermione Granger sleeping in his arms, a small smile gracing her lips and a completely innocent, content look on her hitherto blank, expressionless visage. It was her hair that was shining into his eyes.</p><p>He smiled, for it was the first time in weeks that she looked happy. For a few minutes, he kept admiring his breathtakingly beautiful best friend.</p><p>He could've spent his entire life looking down at her, but he knew that they had to get back to the castle. His heart ached when he realised that he'd have to wake the sleeping beauty from her peaceful slumber, but it had to be done.</p><p>"Hermione?" No response.</p><p>"Hermione?" he repeated, gently shaking her. No affect.</p><p>He leaned down and sang softly, <em>almost</em> seductively in her ear, "Hermione...?"</p><p>His warm breath tingled her neck and she moaned 'Mhmm...', nestling even more into him.</p><p>Harry sighed. "You've left me no way," he muttered.</p><p>"HERMIONE, FOR GOD'S SAKE WAKE UP! YOU'RE SLEEPING ON A BROOMSTICK!"</p><p>That did it. Her eyes shot open with a look of pure horror and she scampered to her feet within a nanosecond, an unearthly yelp emanating from her larynx. Harry tumbled &amp; rolled onto the grass laughing his arse off.</p><p>"HARRY JAMES POTTER! HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO ME!"</p><p>"You - you weren't - you were not waking up. Look it's sunset already," he managed to blurt out through his near-mad cackling.</p><p>"Oh, surely you could've thought of another way of rousing me. You know that I hate flying!" she spat angrily, folding her arms across her bosom.</p><p>"Anyway," he said. He managed to subdue his laughter and got up, dusting the sod off his clothes. He walked up to her with a very real smile and placed a palm on her cheek.</p><p>"I was dying to hear that voice."</p><p>Hermione's lips parted. It dawned upon her that those were her first words in weeks. And the one to draw them out of her was none other than Harry James Potter.</p><p>A slight blush veneered itself on her cheeks as her lips found themselves slowly forming a smile, which soon turned into a Cheshire cat's grin as her dentist-perfect teeth revealed themselves. She unfolded her arms and wrapped themselves around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder as his arms found their way to her waist and pulled her frame into his body completely.</p><p>They parted after a while, grinning profusely at each other as they made their way back to the castle, his right arm wrapped strongly about her small waist whilst her left one hooked itself behind his neck.</p><p>Out of their line of sight, Minerva McGonagall smiled to herself. She had always wanted the two to end up together. And now, it was happening. <em>Hopefully.</em></p><hr/><p>That night, Hermione had a sullen look on her face as Harry tucked her into Ron's bed. She kept gazing at him as he straightened the sheets and pulled the covers on her.</p><p>"What?" he asked upon seeing her pouting.</p><p>She shook her head and turned, closing her eyes and feigning sleep.</p><p>"Huh?" he shrugged and went to freshen up.</p><p>As soon as he was out of sight, Hermione snuck out of the covers and went over to his bed. She straightened the sheets and lied down, pulling on the covers. The tiniest hint of a sly smirk found its way to her lips.</p><p>When Harry walked in after about ten minutes, he was shocked. Absolutely shocked. There lay Hermione Jean Granger, snug in <em>his </em>covers, on <em>his </em>bed.</p><p>For around five whole minutes he stood gaping at the sight before him. He even took off his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on to ensure he was seeing what he was seeing. The image did not change one bit.</p><p>Slowly, he crept up to the nearest bed, Seamus', and sat down. He took long breaths to clear his head.</p><p>Around ten minutes of emotional &amp; hormonal brainstorming led him to the conclusion that she wanted him to comfort her. She wanted to feel protected... to feel <em>safe</em>.</p><p>Very gingerly, he got up and made his way towards the maiden sleeping in his bed. Gulping, he lifted the covers and slowly crept in, taking off his glasses and setting them on the nightstand. He turned towards her once again. Her back faced him.</p><p><em>Should I touch her, or should I not? </em>This question consumed even more time than the first.</p><p>He cautiously lifted one hand and put it on her arm, looking for signs of discomfort. Finding none, he took the liberty of reaching around and gently wrapping his arm around her belly.</p><p>The princess smiled. She purred lightly and snuggled into him, making herself feel at home in his arms. She felt safe, protected. Her mission had been accomplished.</p><hr/><p>The next morning Hermione woke up when the rays of the morning sun beamed in through the window. She spent a few moments just like that before deciding to get up. But she felt restrained.</p><p>Puzzled, she looked down to find herself locked securely locked in a strong, virile hold. She smiled to herself as last night's memories found their way back to the front of her mind. She had successfully guided Harry into holding her &amp; sharing the same bed.</p><p>Suddenly, she felt something graze her thigh. Something that screamed masculinity. Something <em>hard</em>.</p><p>She got off the bed with a shriek when cognisance filled her. Harry was instantly on his feet out of instinct born from the Horcrux hunt, wand pointed at her. They both suspired in short, ragged gasps.</p><p>"Hermione?" asked Harry, baffled, "What the hell was that?". He hastily pocketed his wand.</p><p>"Y-you are asking me what the hell was that? It-it should be <em>me </em>asking <em>you </em>what the hell is t-that!" she exclaimed, pointing at his nether regions.</p><p>Harry looked down and got the shock of his life. He was fully erect.</p><p>He looked up at her, completely red in the face and eyes wide with horror.</p><p>Now he always woke up with a partial morning wood, but having an exceedingly tantalizing girl within his reach had involuntarily made his <em>thingy </em>go...</p><p>Without a word, he turned around and briskly made for the bathroom. He was utterly embarrassed but he knew what he had to do to calm his raging hormones.</p><p>Slowly, as the shock wore off, Hermione started realising what exactly had happened. The confinement of her body, which she knew was <em>very </em>alluring from a masculine perspective, within his hold had unconditionally made him go hard.</p><p>
  <em>Harry was hard. For her.</em>
</p><p>The thought invoked the innate tigress within her and she was wet instantly.</p><p><em>No! </em>The rational part of her mind screamed. <em>You can't do this! He's your best friend! It's-it's incestuous!</em></p><p>She knew she'd have to release the tension to prevent something<em> very </em>wrong from happening. She got back onto the bed and began.</p><hr/><p>Both were extremely unsettled when Harry gingerly came back after half-an-hour. Neither could muster the courage to look the other in the eye.</p><p>When not a word was spoken for over a minute, Harry took a deep breath and decided to muster the Gryffindor courage. <em>Buck up, Harry! You're in for one hell of a ride!</em></p><p>"H-Hr-Hermione..." he began fearfully, "I'm-I'm really sorry - "</p><p>"It's o-ok, Harry."</p><p>He looked up, a baffling mixture of embarrassment, confusion and relief veneered on his face.</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Oh, thank Merlin!" he sunk down onto Seamus' bed, relieved.</p><p>Another long pause permeated the conversation and was getting even more awkward by the second.</p><p>"Oh, let's just forget about it already!" he broke the deadlock, deciding to lighten the mood. "Besides, it was your fault," he stated matter-of-factly.</p><p>"My fault? <em>My fault!? </em>How come was it <em>my</em> fault, Potter!?"</p><p>"Oh, we're on a last name basis? Well then, Granger, <em>you </em>were the one who coaxed me into sleeping with you on the same bed. Which bloke can possibly control his hormones when a sexy-as-hell girl is with him on the bed!?"</p><p>Hermione was shocked and went red. Harry looked puzzled. "What?" he asked.</p><p>"Y-you just called me <em>sexy</em>," she offered in response, her voice dropping with each successive word. The look on his face was one of pure horror. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. <em>What have I done!?</em></p><p>"Hermione..."</p><p>She burst out into fits of laughter, and Harry appeared as if he'd been hit by a particularly strong Confundus Charm.</p><p>When her cackling finally subsided, she looked up to find him in that state.</p><p>"Don't worry, you just said the truth," she said, sitting up. "Besides," she continued, "I would've done the same thing if I were you."</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"Oh, don't act all sweet &amp; innocent, I know you just wanked off me."</p><p>To say Harry was shocked would be the understatement of the century. If the whole morning hadn't already been embarrassing, it was now bordering on insanity. He couldn't believe he was discussing such things with a girl. And that too with Hermione Jean Granger, the bookworm, the brightest witch of their age. The red on his face outclassed the Weasleys by galleons.</p><p>"Don't give me that look, Potter!" she said, "There's no need to be embarrassed, for I just did the same thing."</p><p><em>The world is ending</em>.</p><p>"I know what you're thinking," she said as she walked up to him in a most seductive manner. "Hermione Jean Granger, the brightest witch of our age, jilling off?" she continued, settling into his lap, locking her arms around his neck. She looked at him with half-opened eyelids, her nose touching his. "Well, Potter, no witch can resist the urge if their <em>best friend </em>comes all sweaty-n-<em>sexy</em> from Quidditch. I might be a bookworm, but I'm still a <em>girl</em>," she purred.</p><p>
  <em>This, this isn't real. There's no way it's real. It simply can't be. Hermione!?</em>
</p><p>Her mad cackling began once again. "How - how - how was my - payback?" she managed to articulate amidst her a hotchpotch of laughter &amp; tears.</p><p>
  <em>Payback!?</em>
</p><p>Then it struck Harry. She'd been poking fun at him all along. He broke into a grin.</p><p>"Hermione Jean Granger, you bitch!" he exclaimed as he launched a tickling attack on her as she swatted at him. He stopped after a few minutes and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her even closer to him than was physically possible.</p><p>As her giggles ebbed away, she looked up at him, his emerald green eyes weaving their magical web around her. Sighing, she settled into him, closing her eyes. She'd finally gotten over Ron. She'd found peace.</p><p>Anyone who might have seen them in that state would've surely mistaken them for a couple, and an elderly person would've sworn they <em>felt </em>young love.</p><p>Oh, if only the two would not have been so dumb!</p><hr/><p>
  <em>[Forest of Dean]</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Delicious girl... what a treat... I do enjoy the softness of the skin..."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>[Malfoy Manor]</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bellatrix Lestrange was upon her, torturing her unto insanity. The pain of her cursed dagger running through her arm was nothing compared to the pain she felt when she realised what was being carved. Mudblood.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She couldn't register what the monsters around her were talking about, but she caught Bellatrix's last words as she prepared to summon the Dark Lord.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The savage beast, who'd been waiting for hours for it to happen, malevolently licked his barbed lips, revealing his dangerous teeth.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione screamed. She kicked and flailed and cried out, but to no effect. The werewolf simply grabbed her by the feet and dragged her into an antechamber. She was plonked down on a table. She resisted heavily, but a strong punch silenced her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When she came to, she found her limbs tied up and a piece of cloth across her mouth. The beast was on top of her, drooling. Too scared to do anything, she remained quiet, her eyes wide with fear. "Ah, just at the right time!" he whispered in his rasped voice as he brought his nose to touch hers, looking straight into her fear-filled eyes. "Let's see what we've got here." She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered as she braced herself. "Hmm... nice scent... delicate skin..." he said, nuzzling his nose in her neck.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Slowly, he started moving down, smelling &amp; feeling every part of her body along the way. She fought valiantly, but fear started dominating once he reached her stomach. She began screaming and writhing as she found his nose grazing her most intimate regions, her jeans hardly providing any protection. "Mmm..." his heightened senses inhaled her essence, intoxicating him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Virgin cunt, I see! Would be nice to have something in there, right?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She lost all hope. Her mind began retreating into its own closed sanctuary as her body slackened. He jumped onto her and ripped her clothes apart...</em>
</p><p>She screamed at the top of her voice, waking up with a start.</p><p>"Hermione!" Harry woke up upon hearing her scream. He immediately had his wand in hand but put it away upon seeing no one except her. "Hermione?" He asked, carefully touching her. She shrieked and cowered back, looking at him as if he were a monster.</p><p>Slowly, as her brain registered the surroundings, she asked, "Ha-Harry?" her voice very timid. "Yes, it's me, Hermione. Harry," he said in a fatherly tone, opening his arms. She immediately fell into them, her breathing still rough. He rubbed her softly and kissed her head to calm her down. "Calm down, Hermione. It was just a dream. Just a dream."</p><p>They remained in that state for a few minutes as her heart slowed down &amp; her lungs regained their strength. He kept stroking her as sleep took over her. He did not need to ask what dream it was; his guilty conscience told him all.</p><hr/><p>The next few days passed in complete peace, and Harry &amp; Hermione had become a couple for all practical purposes. They fed each other, cuddled each other, and slept with each other (just <em>slept, </em>mind you). There was not a single moment that they spent without each other. The couch in the Common Room and <em>that </em>tree by the Black Lake where their favourite hangout spots; if you didn't find them there, then you would not have found them anywhere. The only thing that was left as a hurdle in their path to love was a kiss. A kiss would've sealed the deal. But sadly, both of them were oblivious to the fact that their feelings had long crossed the platonic stage. Or at least one was.</p><p>Harry still washed her, as she had the tendency to fall if left standing for a long time, but thankfully she'd taken to washing her bust &amp; private parts on her own. She also dressed up herself, much to his relief.</p><p>Another two weeks flew by and soon it was time to leave for summer. The two had decided that they'd return for their final year and finish their studies.</p><p>As they strolled near the castle after the burial of the martyrs, they began discussing their plans for summer. Harry was naturally going to Grimmauld Place; Sirius had left it to Harry along with his motorcycle and one of the Black family vaults in his will. Kreacher was going to help him with redoing the decor and cleaning.</p><p>"Where are you going?"</p><p>Hermione sighed. "I have to return my parents' memories, but that's gonna take some time. Till then, the Burrow is the only choice..." she trailed off.</p><p>Harry regretted asking the question. He knew that Ron's death was still a sore spot and that it would take a lot of time for the scars of the war to heal. He made a silent resolve and turned back to her.</p><p>"Come with me," he proffered, smiling. She cocked her head. "What?"</p><p>"You heard it. You're coming with me to Grimmauld."</p><p>She stopped, confused. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"</p><p>He walked to her front and playfully said, "If that's what you call it, yes. And it's not a request or an offer. It's an order."</p><p>She smiled and decided to play along. "And who exactly are <em>you</em>, to order <em>me</em>?"</p><p>He began counting off his fingers. "Well, let's see. The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, The Saviour of the Wizarding World..."</p><p>"Shut your trap, you've done nothing to earn those titles."</p><p>"Really?" he proffered haughtily. "Then let's count my achievements. Defeating Snakeface when I was one, doing it again at eleven, becoming the youngest and the best Seeker in a century, knocking down a mountain troll, knowing Parseltongue, killing a basilisk, destroying a Horcrux, casting a Corporeal Patronus at thirteen, driving off a hundred Dementors, fighting a dragon, rescuing - "</p><p>"Oh shut it, you wouldn't have done half of it had I not been there to save your <em>magical</em> arse!"</p><p>He laughed and then became serious. "Well, there's another reason I'm taking you to Grimmauld. I want to redo the Fidelius Charm, just in case any remaining Death Nibblers decide to stage a raid."</p><p>Hermione nearly gaped at him. "Y-you're - " she began in a small voice but was cut off.</p><p>"Yes. I'm asking you to be the Secret Keeper."</p><p>"Do you trust me?"</p><p>"Hermione, you of all people are asking me this? That should not even be a question." He continued, cupping her face in his palms, "I trust you more than anyone, Hermione. I trust you more than I trust myself." His eyes locked with hers as she registered his words. Smiling, she leaned in to fall into his arms.</p><p>They broke apart after a while and silently resumed their journey, holding each other. Knavishly, Harry allowed his hand to fall from her waist to her hips and gripped them tight.</p><p>"Hey!"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Hermione gave him a glare.</p><p>"I don't know about my arse, but yours is certainly <em>magical</em>," he said mirthfully, referring to her previous accusation. She blushed &amp; giggled, and laid her head on his shoulder as he squeezed her tight and continued walking.</p><p>Little did they know that their small, comfy bubble was about to be broken. <em>Hard</em>.</p><hr/><p>As soon as the two walked in through the portrait hole laughing hysterically they were greeted by the sight of Headmistress McGonagall pacing about the Room.</p><p>"Ah, Potter, Miss Granger! I've been wondering where did the two of you disappear! I was just about to send one of the house-elves to fetch you."</p><p>"Er, we were just out for a stroll, Professor. Is everything alright?" Harry asked upon seeing the tensed look on her face.</p><p>"I hope so. Minister Shacklebolt is waiting in my office for you two. The news is of great concern to Miss Granger. The password is 'Cats and Broomsticks'."</p><p>"Thank you, Professor," Hermione replied as she hastily made her way to the Headmistress' office, all of her fragility forgotten. Harry made to follow her, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.</p><p>"Harry," McGonagall's rare usage of his first name highlighted the importance of the situation. "Take care of her."</p><p>She removed her hand and gestured him to go. With a firm nod, he walked out.</p><hr/><p>Harry had just rounded the corner into the corridor that led to the stone gargoyle when a missile rushed past him. A bushy-haired missile. He was dazed.</p><p>He briskly made his way to the gargoyle which surprisingly did not demand a password from him and simply revealed the stairs. Maybe the magic permeating the school had acknowledged that the boy meant no harm and was the leader of the Light.</p><p>He ran up the staircase, forgetting that it could move on its own, and burst through the door to find Kingsley Shacklebolt dejectedly making his way towards the fireplace.</p><p>"Kingsley, what happened?"</p><p>"Hermione's parents are dead, Harry."</p><p>Harry was shocked. "What!? No, no there's got to be some mistake, Kingsley, that's not possi - "</p><p>"They were killed by Death Eaters. They died during one of their Muggle-hunts."</p><p>Harry took a step back. <em>Hermione's parents? Dead!?</em></p><p>For a brief moment, he felt a powerful surge in his heretofore dormant feelings of hatred &amp; anger, but a thought prevented him from rushing out and unleashing the whole of his legendary rage on those monsters.</p><p>
  <em>Hermione.</em>
</p><p>He broke into a mad dash. There was only one place where she could've gone.</p><p>And sure enough, he found her on her knees at the edge of the Black Lake.</p><p>He walked towards her at a gingerly pace and placed a trembling hand on her shoulder. "Hermione..."</p><p>She turned around and he saw that her face was back to the blank expression that was there following Ron's death. Only this time, there were dried tracks of water on her cheeks.</p><p>"H-Harry..."</p><p>He sat down and opened his arms. That was the trigger. "Oh, Harry!" she cried out as she burst into tears once again and locked her arms around him. She buried her face in his neck as he gripped her tightly and gently stroked her head as he valiantly tried to hold in his own tears.</p><p>They remained in that position for hours. It was sunset by the time her crying subsided. He kept gently patting &amp; stroking her to make her quivers recede.</p><p>After a few minutes, her choked-with-tears-yet-extremely-soft voice spoke up. "Ha-Harry?"</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>"I-is this-is this how it feels?" She continued after releasing herself from his hold, "Is this how it feels to not have parents? Is this how it feels to know that they died because of you?"</p><p>Harry gulped. Yes, it was exactly how it felt; how it felt to know that your parents are dead because of you. If there was one person who knew the feeling, it was him. But he couldn't tell her that.</p><p>"Hermione, it's not your fault."</p><p>"No, it is. It's completely my fault. If I hadn't changed their memories this wouldn't ha - "</p><p>"It's my fault then. You did it for <em>me</em>. You sacrificed them because of me."</p><p>Her gaze snapped back to him, a glare on her visage. For a moment the old, bossy Hermione was back. But only for a fleeting moment, for her gaze dropped down the very next second.</p><p>"No, Harry. It's not your fault. It's mine. It's all because of me," she observed as her eyes welled up once again. "It's because of me that I have no one left." A stray tear rolled down.</p><p>He tried to raise her head by the chin, but she resisted. "Hermione?" he asked softly.</p><p>"Hermione, look at me." He cupped her face and lifted it. This time, she did not resist.</p><p>He could not help thinking how beautiful she looked with her eyes glistening, her face streaked with mucus &amp; tears, her hair all messed up. The Lake reflected the rays of the dipping sun, illuminating her visage and most importantly, her eyes. Her golden specks in her auburn eyes shone brilliantly. It was the slowly cascading tear that roused him from his silent contemplation of her absolutely stunning, pure beauty.</p><p>"Hey," he smiled a bit, wiping off the tear that had rolled down, "Never say that you're alone. You have me."</p><p>Once again, he found a thousand emotions swirling through her eyes. And once again, <em>that </em>particular emotion kept evading him. The same emotion he had seen in them when they had spent the evening under the tree with his parents' initials for the first time. He felt the same urge that he had felt that day. But he resisted. He resisted the urge. He simply pulled her into a tight embrace.</p><p>A brilliantly white light flashed through their minds, knocking them unconscious.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>A/N: How was the first chapter? Too long? Boring? Engaging? Did I use the wrong words? Did I go overboard with the emotions? Do drop something in the comments.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>It might be a few days before the next chap's up.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Till then</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>#HarmioneForever</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Different kind of Hallowe'en</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>A/N: The above picture is so adorable! Emma Watson made the little Harry Potter's day on Hallowe'en. She might be associated with some controversies (which celeb isn't?). But no one can deny that her humility and kind-heartedness is just plain heartwarming.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>#LoveYouEmma</strong>
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>[31st October 2005]</strong>
</p><p>"Daddy! Daddy wake up!"</p><p>A very familiar voice burst into the piece of his bedroom. He let out of moan and snuggled further into the pillow.</p><p>"Daddy!" The boyish voice now began to irritate him. Its owner was shaking him vigorously.</p><p>He groaned and turned his head the slightest bit. One eyelid opened slightly. The clock revealed itself through the fogginess. It was ten to six.</p><p>"Wassermarrer, Jamie?" the half-asleep man asked, clearly piqued at being awakened at such an unearthly hour on a <em>Monday</em> of all days (clearly, he was not a Monday person). Mondays were half-days at the shop.</p><p>"Oh, Daddy, you're so dumb! Don't you have any idea what day it is?"</p><p>"It's Monday," he replied blankly, his vexation increasing by the second.</p><p>"It's Hallowe'en!"</p><p>"What!?" He shot up all of a sudden. All trace of sleep vanished. Hundreds of thoughts flashed through his mind at once.</p><p>"What 'what'?" asked a faintly puzzled James.</p><p>He gave a 'What? Oh!' upon the breaking of his scary reverie.</p><p>"What happened, Daddy?" James asked, looking a bit concerned. A precocious child, he knew something was wrong.</p><p>"Oh... er... nothing, nothing!" proffered the father, a bead of sweat breaking on his brow. Unusual, considering summer was long over.</p><p>James shrugged, deciding not to pursue the topic. The Hallowe'en fever gripped him once more.</p><p>"Daddy, it's Hallowe'en! We're going to have yummy food, lots of sweets, jack-o'- lanterns and - "</p><p>"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we're doing everything. Stop it. Sometimes you rant just like..." He trailed off.</p><p>"Who?"</p><p>"No, no, no one."</p><p>"You have to tell me."</p><p>"I don't know myself! It's just that it's... it's... <em>someone.</em>"</p><p>A sly smirk plastered itself on James' face. "Is it a girl?"</p><p>"What!? No! James David Walker, you're treading down the wrong path!"</p><p>The boy in question let out a giggle. "Fine, let it go. Now, would you please get up? I don't fancy wasting my time on such a nice day!"</p><p>David rolled his eyes and swung his legs off the bed. Sometimes, having a boy downright <em>killed </em>him.</p><hr/><p>David James Walker stood in the kitchen. Twenty-five, single dad, coffee shop owner. He fried eggs for breakfast. As his hands mechanically did everything for him (thanks to years of conditioning), he allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts.</p><p>He had no memory whatsoever of his past, his family. He (supposedly) grew up in an orphanage, even though he did not have the foggiest idea where it was. It was as if he had sprung into existence all of a sudden. How can one possibly think of any other way a fully-grown 18-year-old man could make an appearance out of nowhere? Magic? Ridiculously mad. Otherworldly powers? Nonsense. The only logical explanation was that something provided enough energy for air molecules to split into atoms and recombine in a most <em>pathetically </em>wonderful way to form a living, breathing human.</p><p>He also had this nonvanishing, lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. It was permanent; it lived in his very flesh. No matter what he did, it didn't go away. He and his friends had come to accept it as a part of his being.</p><p>Why his name was David James was also a question. And an even bigger one was why did he get the urge to name his son as James David? <em>Seriously? </em>Some of his near-permanent customers even joked about starting a nightclub. DJ JayDee would be <em>quite</em> a choice for a stage name.</p><p>But the $64,000 question was the reason for his dreams. Or rather, <em>nightmares</em>.</p><p>Every now &amp; then, strange images popped into his mind. And strange here means <em>very </em>strange, not just<em> strange</em>. He considered himself deranged. Who in their sane mind sees magic in their dreams? And not stage show magic, mind you, but <em>real </em>(!) magic with a whole bunch of complicated spells! He'd heard them so many times that he even remembered some of them. <em>Wingardium Leviosa? Expelliarmus? Protego Totalum? Salvio Hexia? </em>These are <em>not </em>words that you just dream up!</p><p>The second most frightening image of all of them was that of a ghastly green light and a woman screaming. This particular scene was the one, along with one <em>other</em>, that made his skin crawl.</p><p>And then the most frightening of all. A horrendous, deadly serpent-faced man. He found himself walking towards him.</p><p>
  <em>Harry Potter... the Boy Who Lived... come to die.</em>
</p><p>These words gave him cold sweats. And these were the reason he hated three days of the year: 2nd May, 31st July (coincidentally, his and his son's birthday) and 31st October. And today was one of those days.</p><p>But there was a face. Besides magic wands &amp; spells (and flying broomsticks &amp; buzzing balls &amp; bubbling potions and whatnot), a face always showed itself whenever he was experiencing heavy bouts of magical fantasising. She was laughing, and he was certain it was a <em>she</em>, for he could hear highly feminine giggles. But no matter how hard he tried, the image always remained blurred.</p><p>Sometimes he found himself laughing along with her, sometimes hugging her, sometimes <em>breathing </em>her. He didn't know who she was, but she was the one who made those dreams enjoyable. He had never touched her but could <em>feel </em>himself touching her. He had named her the 'Mystery Girl'.</p><p>A voice cut through his ridiculous-turned-frightening-turned-beautiful-and-lovable daydream. And a smell too, one he could not recognise.</p><p>"DADDY! THE EGGS ARE BURNING!"</p><p>David immediately snapped out of his reverie and found James shouting at him. A burning smell filled his nostrils, causing him to pinch his nose.</p><p>"What were you doing!?"</p><p>"Sorry, James," he apologised as he scraped off the burnt eggs. "I'll make more."</p><p>He decided to keep his tongue wagging to prevent mishaps. "So, what are we doing today?"</p><p>James scowled. "Dad," he said, "we've been doing since I was three."</p><p>"Oh, right. I'm dropping you off school, and then I'm buying pumpkins &amp; opening the coffee shop, which closes at half past two. Then we have tea and go shopping, right?"</p><p>"Yes," came the reply, the gleeful tone returning. "We're gonna buy lots of costumes &amp; swedes &amp; candies and make jack-o'-lanterns - "</p><p>"Not more than 3."</p><p>"Oh, c'mon, Daddy, we need <em>at least </em>seven! One for the - "</p><p>"No," came the response, stern. "It takes a lot of time to carve them to <em>perfection, </em>as you put it." He turned around to put the eggs on their plates to find Jamie scowling again. "Instead," he continued, "You're getting double the sweets as compensation." He smiled as his son broke into a toothy grin. "You're the best Daddy in the world!" He ruffled his hair and gestured him to eat as he sat down to some bread.</p><hr/><p>The alarm beeped at 6:55 to indicate that she had only five minutes before she would have to get up. A slender arm snaked out from under the comforter to silence it, retreating with a subtle stealthiness. After a minute, the figure turned to lay on its back. Her upper torso was out of the covers, her hair brilliantly splattered on the pillow. A small, involuntary smile graced her lips, accentuating her beauty to beyond human perception. A man would've died to see her in that state.</p><p>Slowly, the eyelids parted to allow the vaguest view of her irises, and exactly at seven, they fluttered open (thanks to years of conditioning) to reveal the orbs in full glory.</p><p>Rising, she shed off the covers and stood up, shivering a bit at the slight chill in the air. She rubbed her arms comfortingly and made for the window. The curtains parted to reveal the rising sun.</p><p>Her hands found their way to the windowsill, the smile gracing her lips widening as she took in the warmth of the rays. The ball of plasma shone brilliantly on her visage, illuminating her hair. The unnoticeable specks of gold in her eyes reflected the rays so perfectly that someone might've <em>died </em>if they saw them.</p><p>There stood Freya White, upcoming actress. Clad in a childish girly nightsuit, she was the very definition of beauty. A peaceful feeling imbued the air surrounding her, her body radiating cuteness, grace, calm &amp; serenity; all at the same time. It was as if she could <em>extend </em>her aura, her very soul. A photographer would've sold himself to get a photo of the Morning Freya.</p><p>Sadly, the moment did not last long, with her plans for the day on the cards. She did not have any shoots planned for at least 11 weeks; she'd rejected two offers. Yes, within five years of being in the industry she'd attained the level where she was <em>rejecting </em>films.</p><p>A small, graceful sigh escaped her body as she turned around to begin her daily morning routine.</p><p>As she sat walked into the kitchen-cum-dining area after showering, she mentally recalled her schedule. Breakfast, then a stroll in the park, reading, mooching around and relaxing until twelve. Lunch, then books again before Samantha came over at two when the two would go for some 'light' shopping. She giggled a bit unconsciously. <em>Light? Samantha and 'light' shopping? The world's surely ending if that's happening!</em></p><p>She decided on some toast and cereal. Caffeine was not her cup of tea. <strong>[Slightly ironic ;)]</strong></p><p>Her legs found themselves walking towards the main door at half past eight. She put a light autumn-winter coat on herself and stepped out, locking the door.</p><p>Many people were out to enjoy the sun. Kids chirped &amp; youths jogged, while the elderly ones either walked barefoot on grass or sat on the benches. It wasn't full, but enough to make the atmosphere lively. A few people smiled her way. She smiled back. They were perfectly comfortable with having her in their midst as they'd known her since her days of struggle.</p><p>She'd worked in thirteen films so far, having landed the lead in the last one. She still lived in the same place she used to live six years ago and did all her chores herself. It wasn't that she didn't have money; she just didn't crave it. The sharp, analytical part of her brain excellently monitored her income &amp; expenditure. She could've bought a big house and employed people to do the chores, but it just didn't feel right. She was happy, content with these people who'd come to accept her as their own, especially the children.</p><p>Something hit her leg lightly, causing her to look down. Little Frank's big black eyes locked with hers. She lowered herself to level her eyes with his.</p><p>"What are you doing, Frank?"</p><p>"I just came to fetch the ball."</p><p>"Ball? Which ball?" she asked playfully. "Ah, this one?" She picked it up.</p><p>"Yup."</p><p>"Well, I think your Daddy will have to buy you a new one, because this is mine now." She smirked in a 'just kidding' manner.</p><p>"No!" Frank lunged forward to snatch it from her. She got up, using her height advantage to the fullest.</p><p>She fooled with him for a while amidst his pleas of 'Give it back! Please, give it back!'. Just when it looked like he was about to cry, she levelled with him once more and held it out for him to grab. But being the devil she was, she withdrew it at the last moment.</p><p>"You're getting this only on one condition!"</p><p>"What?" asked an annoyed Frank, ready to do anything to get it back.</p><p>"You have to take this as well!" She surprised him by pulling out a handful of lollipops.</p><p>"Lollies!" Her grin widened upon hearing his squeal of pure delight.</p><p>"Ok, so how many do you want? There's one per kid."</p><p>"I'll take four. One for myself and one each for Suzie, Dolly and Aaditya."</p><p>She gave him a mock scowl. "Am I not your friend?"</p><p>"Oh, right! One for you as well!" He took five and held one out to her. "Yours!" She laughed at his innocence. "I was just joking. Give it to Margaret from my side, will you?"</p><p>"What? <em>That </em>Margaret? She's a total nincom - " Her glare stopped him. "Never, ever, call her that, ok? She's different from you, but that does not mean she deserves to be called nasty things! She's a very nice girl if you ever try to talk to her."</p><p>"Sorry," he said timidly, lowering his eyes.</p><p>She smiled and ruffled his hair. "Just be nice to her." She returned the ball to its owner and gestured him to go.</p><p>"Nice lollies, huh?" A deep voice spoke behind her, causing her to turn back. "I want one too!"</p><p>She got up, laughing lightly. The voice belonged to Jake Simpson, one of her friends.</p><p>"Oh, Jake, when will you grow up!"</p><p>"When you give yourself to me," he muttered to himself.</p><p>"Sorry, what?" Maybe he'd been a bit louder than he'd thought.</p><p>"Oh, nothing! I'll never grow up. I want to remain a boy who is content with lollies!"</p><p>That earned him a light swat in addition to another giggle. He decided to keep the atmosphere light. They began to walk side-by-side.</p><p>"So what are your plans for today?" she asked.</p><p>"Oh, nothing. The usual. I don't have any shoots and so decided to have some 'guy time' with my buds in the evening. I'm free in the afternoon." Jake was a photographer. "What about you?"</p><p>"Same old!" she shrugged.</p><p>Silence reigned for a few seconds before he decided to make his move.</p><p>"Er, Freya?"</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>"Er... I was thinking - well, I was thinking - (under his breath) Goddammit - As you're free today, maybe you'd like to go Hallowe'en shopping with me?" That way maybe he could make it a date, he thought.</p><p>She let out an inaudible sigh and looked at her feet. She didn't particularly enjoy male attention; she was used to it. Innumerable guys had tried to woo her over the years and had failed miserably. But Jake was different. He was her friend since '02 and had been trying to break the 'friendzone' barrier since last summer. He refused to back off despite her subtle hints that they were <em>just friends</em>.</p><p>"Well?"</p><p>She realised she'd remained silent for too long. Lifting her head, she said, "Thanks for offering Jake, but I'm already going with Samantha." He frowned. "You may join us if you want to," she hastily offered.</p><p>"No, thanks. I guess I'll just go with Drew. Enjoy!" He left.</p><p>She shook her head lightly and resumed walking. <em>Men!</em></p><hr/><p>David sighed as he started on his daily morning 'shop' routine. It was Hallowe'en and earnings were low, considering how many people preferred to do nothing. Working ones still had office, school-goers still had school, and those who had nothing to do preferred lying in bed. The bright sun, however, gave him some hope. Two or three guys might just want to pop in.</p><p>He was wiping the mugs when the bells above the glass door chimed, signifying a customer. Somehow just the way they sounded told him who it was.</p><p>"Hey, Dave! 'Sup?"</p><p>He let out a groan; he wasn't in the mood for small talk. Frankly, he never was.</p><p>"Are you going to say something?"</p><p>He turned around and opened his arms wide in frustration. "What d'you want to hear? 'Oh, I'm all hunky-dory! It's All Hallows' an' I'm dancing &amp; cackling like mad &amp; watching horror films an' making merry!' Jolly good, isn't it, Allhalloween?"</p><p>"That was uncalled for," Rob Atkinson answered, frowning.</p><p>David closed his eyes and breathed in short, ragged gasps. "Sorry," he managed to utter after some time. "I'm just fed up." He turned around and resumed wiping the mugs.</p><p>"Of what?"</p><p>"My life. I'm irked."</p><p>"That's obvious," Rob replied, walking past the counter up to him. He clapped his back hard and rubbed it in a masculine manner. "You know what," he continued, "I know what you need."</p><p>"What?" David asked, still not completely placid.</p><p>"A girl," he replied with a smirk.</p><p>
  <em>Seriously? Does anyone on this planet have any sense?</em>
</p><p>Turning around, he looked his dolt-of-a-friend in the eye. "Look, Rob, if you're starting on your 'girlfriend' shit again, then I'm throwing you out <em>and</em> having a Rob-repellent sprayed inside my shop, get it?" he threatened. His temper was rising by the second.</p><p>"Hey, relax! There's no need to be all hyper. I'm just suggesting."</p><p>"Well, <em>I </em>am the one who has to deal with your horseshit, and so I know better when you're <em>just suggesting</em>," he remarked in a venomous tone.</p><p>"Oh, God, you're impossible!" Rob rolled his eyes and raised his hands in defeat. "Anyway, let it go. Set me a Death Wish; two, actually. One for yourself. You need to charge down." He turned around and made for a table.</p><p>"What!? You have a <em>death wish</em>?" David was aghast.</p><p>"Death Wish coffee, you dunderhead! Now c'mon, get your lazy arse up &amp; moving!" he said in a voice twenty decibels higher than usual.</p><p>After fifteen minutes, David set the tray down on the table and placed one mug in front of Rob before taking the other and settling into the other chair.</p><p>"So," Rob asked, sipping some coffee. "Would you be kind enough to elaborate upon the reason for your grumpy mood on such a nice sunny day?" he pointed outside. No response. David kept looking into his mug. "Dave?" Still no response. "Hello, David? Buddy, you ok? Where are you?" he asked, snapping his fingers in front of his face.</p><p>All of a sudden as if powered by some sort of inner beast, David jerked and grabbed the mug and downed the freaking hot drink in five large gulps. Rob looked on as his jaw fell open. Dave set the empty container down with a bang, panting.</p><p>"Are you mad! You'll burn your throat!"</p><p>"Not that I already have."</p><p>Rob gave him a serious look. "Tell me."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I know you've been hiding something from me for years. I've tried to get it out of you many times but in vain. But today, I'm not leaving without knowing the reason for your sudden outbursts. Tell me everything."</p><p>"Fine," David sighed in defeat. He'd had enough; he needed someone who could understand him. He began.</p><p>"You know that I've got no family and that I grew up in an orphanage?" Rob nodded. "Ok, so what if I tell you I have no memory whatsoever of my childhood? I mean absolutely nothing." He paused for a response. "Go ahead," Rob said. "Take your time, but give me everything."</p><p>"I simply don't have anything that relates my childhood to me. I don't even remember where's the orphanage."</p><p>"It's as if I popped out of thin air, a fully-grown 18-year-old bloke. Just like - just like <em>magic</em>."</p><p>"Magic?"</p><p>"Yeah, magic. And things are about to get even crazier."</p><p>"Quite frequently, I have these dreams in which there are wizards. And no, they don't do stage show magic, but <em>real </em>magic."</p><p>"They have these magic wands an' complicated spells an' repulsive potions an' flying broomsticks an' buzzing balls an' man-hunting plants &amp; beasts &amp; centaurs &amp; dragons - oh, I'm going insane!"</p><p>There was a pause as he caught his breath. "Sorry."</p><p>"Go on."</p><p>"I know all of this sounds like something picked out of a children's adventure book, but it's all <em>too</em> real to be imaginary."</p><p>"Real as in?"</p><p>"As in the spells, for example," David answered. "The spells have fairly complex incantations and wand movements; too complex to be something that you'd just dream up. It isn't every day that you get to hear these ridiculously-alien-yet-familiarly-Latin words. I've heard them so many times that I even remember a few."</p><p>"That's interesting. Could you state a few?" asked a surprisingly calm Rob. He was still under the impression that it was all fake.</p><p>"<em>Wingardium Leviosa </em>for levitating things, <em>Lumos </em>for light, <em>Nox </em>for blowing it out, <em>Expelliarmus </em>for disarming your opponent, the stunner <em>Stupefy</em>, the shield spell <em>Protego</em>, the - "</p><p>"All right, that's enough. Yeah, the names do not sound all dreamed-up. Continue."</p><p>"And then there are those... those..."</p><p>"Those what?"</p><p>"...<em> Nightmares</em>." A slight pause found its way into the conversation.</p><p>"Ok," Rob said. "So you have nightmares. What exactly happens in them? Are they the same all the time?"</p><p>"Yes, they're always the same. And only two things ever happen in them." He stopped and gulped.</p><p>"I'm listening."</p><p>"In one, there's a ghastly green flash of light, followed by a woman screaming. I've no idea who she is."</p><p>"And the second?"</p><p>"The second... er... uhm..."</p><p>"The second?" Rob repeated.</p><p>"Well... I'm not exactly ok with talking about it."</p><p>"You have to. I'm not leaving without getting the full story."</p><p>David was visibly sweating. Maybe persuading this much wasn't a good idea after all. After a few seconds, Rob softly said, "Sorry, I should not press you. You can tell me whenever you want to. Let me know if I can be of any help. I'm going." He got up, but before he was halfway to the glass door, David suddenly exclaimed, "No, wait!"</p><p>Rob turned around to find David walking up to him. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "I better tell you now." He lowered his hand.</p><p>Rob turned to face him and held him by the shoulders, but he looked down. "I'm walking towards someone. He is a hideous, snake-faced monster. His very <em>aura</em> is evil, and he smells of death. And then..."</p><p>"You don't have to continue," Rob said in a brotherly, comforting tone. But apparently, David did not listen.</p><p>"And then come... t-the wor - the words..." A pregnant pause ensued. He couldn't take it anymore; he just wanted to get it all out. Replicating the exact venomous, deadly tone, he enunciated the words that made his skin crawl.</p><p>"<em>Harry Potter... the Boy Who Lived... come to die...</em>"</p><p>The words gave Rob Atkinson the worst kind of gooseflesh he'd ever experienced in his life; they were so <em>scary </em>- so <em>real</em>. He let go of David in shock and sat down in the nearest chair. Neither of the two spoke anything for at least two minutes; David was busy reliving the deathly moment, and Rob was too stunned.</p><p>Slowly, as he regained sense, he mustered enough courage to try &amp; ask, "Wha- What... Who? Who is Harry Potter?"</p><p>"I don't know," David answered plainly, which certainly wasn't all right.</p><p>Another long pause ensued as Rob tried to put things together inside his mind. But his efforts were interrupted.</p><p>"There's one more thing left," David stated, looking at him.</p><p>"What?" He was shocked. He couldn't think of anything else that could be worse than it all already was.</p><p>"Don't worry, it's not another nightmare," David assured him. "It's-it's a girl."</p><p>The sudden switching of the topic from nightmares to girls made Rob give him a baffled look.</p><p>"There's a girl - I'm sure it's a girl - who frequently appears in my dreams. Her face is always blurred, but she's laughing &amp; giggling &amp; cavorting &amp; frolicking with me &amp; hugging me and sometimes even giving me a peck on the cheek."</p><p>"Somehow, even when I don't know her, I can <em>feel </em>her; I can feel her very essence permeating my bones when she's with me in those dreams. And most of all, her thoughts are what that drive off the negative ones that keep bothering me. I call her the 'Mystery Girl'."</p><p>After about three minutes, Rob declared, "You know what, I think I now know the plausible reasons behind all this."</p><p>"And what are those?"</p><p>"Either you're a psycho maniac - which I'm pretty sure you aren't - or something <em>really</em> bad happened with you, causing you to lose your memories &amp; think of this bizarre hypothetical <em>magical </em>world."</p><p>David sighed. "Exactly what my psychiatrist told me."</p><p>"You've been seeing a psychiatrist?"</p><p>"Secretively, since '03. Dr Mortimer. I've also been taking medication, but to no effect."</p><p>Another pause.</p><p>"And about that 'Mystery Girl'," Rob continued. "Have you told your doctor about her?"</p><p>"Yes. Dr Mortimer thinks it's some form of 'wish fulfilment'; that's how she chooses to put it."</p><p>"Wish fulfilment? As in - "</p><p>"As in being alone," David cut him. "As in not being able to feel <em>manly</em>. She thinks I dream of that girl because I crave being able to hold, to <em>feel</em>, to... <em>protect</em>, to... <em>claim </em>a female. According to her, I subconsciously want to have a girl all to myself; I crave being able to play the <em>man</em>."</p><p>The umpteenth pause.</p><p>"You know what," Rob broke the silence, "I think I know what it is with you and your... <em>girl</em>... and it's different from what your psychiatrist thinks."</p><p>"What d'you mean?"</p><p>"Whoever it is - or was - you <em>loved </em>her."</p><hr/><p>Samantha Jones rang the doorbell at three minutes past two to find a furious Freya White glaring at her.</p><p>"What now? I'm on time!" she raised her arms in protest.</p><p>"On time, Miss Jones? You are a full <em>three minutes</em> late!"</p><p>Samantha rolled her eyes. "Oh, c'mon Freya, it's just <em>three</em> minutes!"</p><p>"Just three minutes? <em>Just </em>three minutes? D'you even understand the importance of those three <em>bloody</em> minutes? We'd've already been inside the car!"</p><p>"Did-did you just <em>swear?</em>" she asked, shocked.</p><p>Freya realised her mistake and was almost going to apologise when a voice chimed in: <em>What's the problem with swearing? Anyway, </em>she<em> was the one who provoked you!</em></p><p>"Yes, I did swear. Any problem?"</p><p>"No, no problem except for the fact that we've wasted four more of your <em>precious </em>minutes, thanks to your bloody arsehole!"</p><p>Freya was about to snap back at her but stopped when she plainly said, "Just get the car keys."</p><p>As she drove down the road in silence, she turned to look at Samantha, who looked as if she herself had just turned her head. After five seconds, she caught Samantha turning her head again. And after another ten, they both got caught looking at each other. Small smiles crept up to their lips, changing to grins, and finally to full-fledged girly laughter.</p><p>"Now that's my Sammy."</p><p>"And that's my Frooti."</p><p>They both smiled to themselves.</p><hr/><p>He waited outside the gate for dismissal to take place. Soon enough, a whole crowd of children ranging from five- to ten-year-olds swarmed out of the classrooms and into the main grounds. David was calm &amp; composed, knowing that James was smart enough to make his way through the commotion unharmed. He spotted him, walking towards him at a childishly composed &amp; leisurely pace. His motor skills were quite finely tuned, considering it was only his first year at school.</p><p>James was a precocious child, his emotional quotient nearly equal to that of a fairly mature teenager's. He was very understanding of his dad's situation and had accepted him as both a father and a mother. Yes, there <em>were</em> times when he wished he could have a female motherly figure to care for him, but those were few, as he truly appreciated his father's efforts. That was something that made David's heart ache, not being able to give him a mother's love.</p><p>His guilty reverie broke when he felt someone tug at his clothes. He looked down to find that James had already made to him. Sighing, he grabbed his hand and put on a smile. "Let's go."</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>James was not overly fond of the 'muck' that the school canteen served. He carried one or two sandwiches with him and had tea (which was more of a pretty late lunch) with his father at home.</p><p>Once they were done, they set out for shopping.</p><hr/><p>"Are you done or not?" Freya asked for the umpteenth time, an identifiable hint of anger in her voice.</p><p>"Just a minute!" came the reply.</p><p>She rolled her eyes. Samantha's 'just a minute' meant at least half an hour.</p><p>"I'm going for a stroll."</p><p>"Fine! Just throw me the car keys!"</p><p>She tossed the keys over the door of the trial room and left, buzzing her lips.<em> Ok, females </em>are <em>obsessed with clothes, I myself am, but Samantha is just </em>too <em>much.</em></p><p>She was just mooching around when a costume shop caught her attention. She didn't know why, but she felt attracted to it. <em>Strange</em>, she thought. <em>What's new with costumes? </em>She didn't get time to ponder over it as a strong, almost <em>magnetic </em>field drew her towards it. An eerie feeling permeated her, but she couldn't stop herself; it was as if her legs were someone else's. Reluctantly, she stopped restraining them. Anyway, what could be wrong with a costume shop?</p><p>She walked in and started examining some of the pieces on display. Not one was of her interest, but she kept looking. Suddenly, a voice reached her ears.</p><p>"Dad, look!"</p><p>She turned to her right and saw a little boy, no more than six, pointing at her. His eyes widened upon registering her full face.</p><p>"Daddy!" he tugged anxiously upon his dad's clothes, who was partially absorbed in picking out a good one for his son. He mumbled a simple 'hmm'. The boy kept tugging fiercely.</p><p>"Daddy!"</p><p>"Hmm," came the response, this time with greater clarity &amp; force.</p><p>"Daddy!"</p><p>"Oh, God, what is it now?" the man snapped a bit angrily.</p><p>"Look! It's Suzie! It's Suzie from the film! Remember last month when we went to the hall?"</p><p>David lifted his head to find the person in question doing the same. Invisible waves travelled between them at lightspeed, carrying millions of thoughts &amp; emotions.</p><p>David was bowled over by the sheer beauty of the woman standing ten paces from him. Absolutely. Utterly. Completely.</p><p>His eyes flitted over her entire body, taking it all in. The thin legs, which fit perfectly in the skin-tight purple pants. The thighs. The waist. The slender arms, the hands being tucked into the pockets of her parka. The neck, so svelte. The light brown hair, the hood covering its lower parts. The impeccable countenance. The nose, the lips, the ears, the eyebrows, the eyelashes and... the <em>eyes.</em></p><p>The eyes were a brilliant shade of brown, auburn to be precise, with the slightest specks of gold. A familiar, instinctual feeling rumbled in his gut. <em>Have I seen them before?</em></p><p>Unbeknownst to him, Freya was wondering the same. She'd never been intrigued by a man before. But this - this was... <em>different</em>. She felt as if she'd known this man for ages, despite the logical part of her mind vehemently protesting. He radiated a certain... <em>feeling</em>, a certain sense of palliness and... <em>masculinity</em>. His build pulled her like a magnet, his aura trying to intermingle with hers. The odd scar on his forehead seemed distantly familiar. But his eyes, his emerald green eyes. They drew her the most. They were simply <em>too </em>beautiful to be real.</p><p>Their silent contemplation was being closely watched by James Walker, who was slightly baffled. When he decided it'd been too long, he cleared his throat. Though he failed miserably at pulling it off, the action was enough to break the two grown-ups from their entranced state.</p><p>The two hurriedly blinked their eyes and tried to compose themselves. 'Oh...uhm..' escaped their lips together. They were still a bit dazed. <em>What just happened?</em></p><p>"If the two of you are done," James said, his eyes darting alternately at both of them, "I'd like to ask, are you Suzie?" He turned towards Freya.</p><p>It took her a moment to register what he asked and another moment to recall which Suzie he was talking about. When she did, she smiled and walked up to him.</p><p>"Yes, I am Suzie. Are you Jonny?" she asked, lowering herself to his height. "Yes," James replied meekly. Odd, considering his grown-up behaviour, but understandable. It was his first proper interaction with a female (outside school, of course). Any boy would feel shy if a beautiful celebrity just walked up to them and started being all cute &amp; friendly.</p><p>"Good, because we're best of friends!" She hugged him. He visibly reddened.</p><p>When they broke off, she asked him, "What are you doing here, best friend?"</p><p>"I came to buy a costume."</p><p>"Really? What sort of costume?"</p><p>"A really scary one. I want to frighten my friends out of their minds!" James was slowly regaining his childish excitement.</p><p>"Oh! But you didn't scare me. Instead, I'm happy to be meeting my best friend after such a long time. Would you like to have a photo?"</p><p>"Sure! I think dad won't mind taking one, would you Daddy?" he asked, turning to his father.</p><p>David, who had been amusedly watching the interaction between his son and the actress he recognised as Freya White, zapped out. "Oh... er... sure, why not?"</p><p>He pulled out his mobile phone, the latest model of Nokia. It had a camera. Clearly, his business was flying.</p><p>Freya posed with James and David quickly took a picture.</p><p>
  
</p><p>"See," he said, handing it to James.</p><p>"It's nice, isn't it, Suzie?" James asked, handing her the phone.</p><p>"It's perfect, Jonny!" She pulled out her phone turned to David, careful not to make deep eye contact. "Would you mind if I asked you to take one for me as well, Mister... er..."</p><p>"Walker. David Walker. No, I wouldn't, Miss White - er, am I wrong?"</p><p>"No, you're not." She smiled at him and handed him her phone, which, coincidentally, was the same model as his. Their fingertips touched, sending sparks of electricity through both of them. She quickly pulled away.</p><p>David took the photo. She got up and turned to James.</p><p>"So, what's your real name, best friend?"</p><p>"James Walker."</p><p>"I'm Freya White. I played Suzie." She offered her hand.</p><p>"Nice to meet you, Miss White," James replied in a very formal tone, at least as much as he could come up with, given his age. He took the offered hand and shook it firmly.</p><p>Freya let out a small laugh. "Nice try, Mr Walker. But seeing that I'm your best friend, I'd like to be called Freya."</p><p>"Oh, I'm Jamie, then." Freya smiled even more.</p><p>"Goodbye, Jamie. Have a happy Hallowe'en. I hope we meet again." She turned to David. "Happy All Hallows' to you as well, Mr Walker." The subsequent handshake made things between the two grown-ups even more awkward than they already were.</p><p>As she exited the shop, she turned one last time to wave at James and caught David looking at her. She blushed lightly and looked away.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>A/N: Sorry for the wait, folks! I hope this chapter was up to your expectations. Updates are going to be slow, too slow at times, but I can't do much about it until July 2021 at the least. Still, I'll try my best.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Till then</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>#HarmioneForever</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Meetings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>A/N: I apologise for the long wait. I have to offer apologies in advance for something else too; I won't be able to update before June 2021. A chapter or two might pass through, but the probability remains very low, as the 'exams of my life' (that's what everyone says) are up. I went through all possible combinations and permutations, and the outcome is that I can't promise anything. What do they call it, putting fics on hold? Hiatus? Maybe. I can't promise anything more than one chapter.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>But don't worry, I'm going to complete this fic, no matter how long it takes. Time can't stop the #Harmione &amp; #Harmony love from prospering. H/Hr is the spirit.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Oh, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year in advance. :) (I hope '21's better than '20)</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Now, without further ado ...</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>On with the fic!</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>After finally tucking James in, David walked into his room and fell on the bed. The clock read four minutes to twelve. Jamie had spent a hell lot of time trick-or-treating with his friends and had crossed the deadline of ten latest he'd set by over one and a half hours. David had started worrying by eleven and was highly perturbed by eleven-thirty. He'd set out at twenty to twelve only to find Jamie waiting for the lift at the ground floor.</p>
<p>He kept his eyes open to avoid falling asleep, for it was around this time he was most prone to those horrendous Hallowe'en nightmares. Every year he fell asleep, and every year the <em>words</em> tormented him. Surprisingly, he didn't feel anything tonight. Instead, his mind kept rambling incessantly about stray things and a light layer of sweat formed on his skin. <em>Maybe it's the clothes</em>. He'd not taken off the uppers he'd put on hurriedly. They were off in a few seconds as he jumped into bed once again.</p>
<p>The clock kept ticking. Soon it twenty-seven minutes past twelve. One glance and David was shocked. The nightmare 'primetime' had passed. For the first time in years, Hallowe'en had passed without trouble.</p>
<p>Not knowing whether to feel enthralled or anxious, he closed his eyes and relaxed. Sleep was still nowhere around, and his thoughts were comparable to gooey muck. He let the restraints fall and dived into the torrential flow of visions.</p>
<p>At first, they remained as they were. After some time, though, the thoughts began to take a particular direction. A direction which led to somewhere very comforting ...</p>
<p>
  <em>David is wiping mugs in his shop when the bells jingle. He turns around to find a young woman walking up to him. Her attire is casual yet eerily (?) charming. He can't make out her face, but somehow she feels familiar. "Hi, David!" she coos, her voice very energetic yet soft &amp; low. "Wanna come with me?" she asks as she offers her hand. Bewitched, he can't refuse. His hand automatically sets down the mug it held on the nearest shelf and meets with hers. Her face unblurs slightly to reveal her eyes, brown orbs with hints of gold.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The surroundings change. David finds himself standing in a completely different setting. Slightly dazed from the abrupt change, he looks around to find himself in a costume shop. James is to his left, trying to decide which one's the scariest. Just then a familiar aura makes itself known.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"David?" He turns around to find the same lovely-woman-with-a-blurred-face-but-now-unblurred-eyes. "My, where did you disappear? I was so worried. Here, take my hand." Once again, he is unable to resist the temptation. This time, her nose revealed itself upon contact.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Another swirl and the setting changes for the second time. David finds himself in very formal attire. Someone clears their throat, most probably a female. He turns around to find the same woman yet again. This time, however, she's clad in a pretty sleeveless gown. Even without seeing her face, David can tell she's breathtakingly beautiful. She smiles, and her lips made themselves visible. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr Walker," she apologises somewhat nervously. "Shall we?" His hand automatically goes up. She places hers in it, blushing profusely.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Another swirl, another change. But this time, something's different.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>David looks around to find that he's under the shade of a tree near a vast lake. Even though he knows nothing about the place, he knew it all; an uncanny sense of familiarity calls to him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>But he isn't alone. Something moves lightly against him, something warm and very much alive. He looks down to find his arms wrapped around the form of a beautiful young woman. He can only see half her face, but he knew. It was her breathing that had made him look down.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>This time, however, something happened without him holding her hand. A blur distorts his vision, and before he knew, he gets sucked into a vortex just where he'd been sitting. It disappears after a heartbeat, and the same surroundings were in place; he could tell by looking around. The young woman was leaning onto him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He began to turn involuntarily, but something catches his eye. He doesn't know what it means, but he can't stop his eyes from welling up.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Hermione?" he hears himself whispering.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Hermione?" This time it was louder.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Hermione," he spoke through a cracking larynx and gave a gentle nudge to the woman beside him. It earned him a "Hmm" before the woman moved to catch what he was looking at so emotionally. A tear rolled down his cheek.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The woman wiped it and placed her hand behind his neck. He turns to face her. She shakes her head to ask him not to cry. It was then he saw her fully. It was Freya White.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Panic seizes him, and yet he cannot stop his eyes from fluttering down to her lips as they part the slightest bit. It was wrong, very wrong, yet it seemed so right. He had to fight the urge to lean down and claim those lips for himself.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Before he can do anything, though, the vortex-thing surrounds him once again, blurring his vision. It brought back the twisting sensation with it. A twist, a swirl, and the scene changed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Freya White is still there, only this time she looks dishevelled and completely devastated. Tear tracks and mucus mar her visage. David can't stop himself from thinking how beautiful she is, and before he knew he was -</em>
</p>
<p>He woke up with a start, sweating profusely. Shudders ran through his body, but they did not incite fear, for they were most different from the ones the nightmares gave him. They were eerily ... <em>pleasurable</em>, almost in ... <em>that </em>way. He wiped off some of the salty water from his face, reached for his glasses and tried to calm down. For a few minutes, he did nothing except wait for his breath to normalise. He then pushed off the covers and made for the kitchen.</p>
<p>As he filled a glass with water, he couldn't help thinking about what had just happened. <em>I just had a dream about Freya White. </em>Very true. He picked up the glass and took large gulps. <em>If I hadn't got up on time, I'd've ventured into far nastier things -</em></p>
<p>He set the glass down with a bang, mentally scolding himself. <em>You meet a girl in a shop, one you don't know the fucking-tiniest bit, one who's rich, beautiful, classy, and bloody-fucking-way out of your league, and you're already fantasising 'bout her? What're you, Walker? A man who dreams of shagging every fucking girl? A fucking randy teenager?</em></p>
<p>"WHAT AM I!?" he bellowed as he banged his fist on the granite slab. Of course, it hurt. "Aah!" he yelled as he brought the now loose hand to his mouth, sure of having chipped a small bone at the least. He sucked on the bruised spot lightly. His angry thoughts took a slightly different direction. <em>And who the fuck is this Hermione? Why was I calling White Hermione? </em>He'd given up sucking and subconsciously resorted to biting. It was the coppery taste of blood that broke the train. He licked it off and pulled his hair in anger.</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh God, why does this all have to be so fucked up!?</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Freya White couldn't sleep. It was the first time in years she couldn't. Well, apart from the days she got nightmares, which were, though not exactly common, not <em>that</em> few that you could count them on the fingers of your right hand.</p>
<p>Easter break encompassed the days when the first of them haunted her nights. A woman cackling madly and casting curses that sent jolts of extreme pain through her body, with shouts of "Hermione! Hermione!" coming from deep down somewhere in the background. And then the scene changed to a most horrific one; a beast jumping on her and ripping her clothes apart.</p>
<p>This was the one that incited extreme pain &amp; fear; a fear unimaginable, unfathomable. However, surprisingly, it was not the one that bothered her the most. It was very different.</p>
<p>
  <em>A hideous, snake-faced man who emanates death walks towards her, a large army of cloaked killers following him. She doesn't know how, but she knows they're all murderers. A shackled giant wades through them, his eyes cold &amp; lifeless with shock, pain and grief. His arms carry something. It's a body.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>She finds herself faltering, her brain confused, pained and scared simultaneously. She doesn't recognise who, but her body does, for that eerie cognisance makes her parts go uncoordinated, the pain &amp; fear veneering over her mind with increasing intensity.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The killer-in-chief stops and surveys his surroundings for a moment, which, as she realises, is full of people, all dishevelled. The place where they stand appears to be in ruins as if Nemesis had ascended from his hibernation inside the planet's core. He'd finally staked claim to the title he gave himself.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And then come the words that do it.</em>
</p>
<p>"HARRY POTTER ... IS DEAD!"</p>
<p><em>Her heart stops, her lungs freeze, her conscious mind begins its descent into places unknown. She can feel life leaving her body, feel an inexplicably-unfathomably-immense sense of emptiness consume her. She can feel her soul leaving her body; she can experience </em>... death.</p>
<p>This was the one that had her. Feeling so empty, so distressed, so lifeless, so soulless, so ... <em>dead</em>. May the second was the date when it was most profound.</p>
<p>She didn't know why those words affected her so much. Heck, she didn't even know <em>who </em>Harry Potter was. Well, apart from through her <em>other </em>dreams.</p>
<p>Besides these horrendous, soul-sucking nightmares (at least from her perspective), her other dreams weren't any less crazy, for they involved <em>magic</em>. Real <em>magic</em>.</p>
<p>In those dreams, she was mostly in some old, stony castle-like place. Or perhaps somewhere near it. Spells, books, charms, potions, ghosts, flying broomsticks ... broomsticks brought something else to her mind. A boy. A boy whose face always remained blurred. She'd found herself address him as Harry several times.</p>
<p>His name was not the only thing. Apparently, Harry was a long-lost friend, for they were most certainly the best of pals in her dreams. And she'd heard him call her Hermione.</p>
<p>She'd sought professional advice at last, and had been on medication for her 'condition' since '03. Strangely, her therapist had remarked several times that another person reported similar findings as hers. Of course, they wouldn't give her the person's details; patients' privacy was among the top priorities at Dr Mortimer's. They'd so far managed to avoid having her moved into the 'special care' ward in some big hospital for 'deranged' people like her. But Dr Mortimer had made it clear that they'd do so immediately if it showed any sign of endangering her life.</p>
<p>The question of how she'd landed into all this was one over which she'd stopped dwelling a long time ago, but still, she couldn't restrain her mind from taking a peek at those images once in a while.</p>
<p>All she remembered was that she'd been standing at a kind old lady's front door, with her only memory being her name, Freya White, and that her parents were dead. The woman had taken her in without question upon seeing her dishevelled state. For several days she'd avoided asking the question about how Freya had ended up there, just taking good care of her. When she finally did ask after about three weeks, all the lady could get was that her parents were dead and she had no one left.</p>
<p>She'd helped Freya acquire a job at the local village primary school after about two months, which was difficult as Freya had no certification. But the headmistress found that her doubts were without basis within the first week itself, for the young kids thoroughly enjoyed Freya's company, and she theirs. At least she'd got <em>something</em> to get her mind off all the craziness in her life.</p>
<p>Freya had spent nearly a whole year at the school and was rushing 'home' happily to inform Mrs Fitzgerald, whom she'd very fittingly taken to calling Grandma, about her impending promotion when the small crowd gathered there had silenced her; Mrs Fitzgerald was dead.</p>
<p>The funeral was a sombre affair, and Freya had been surprised when Mrs Fitzgerald's son and her lawyer had solicited her presence at the will-reading. And true enough, Freya's name was in the will. Mrs Fitzgerald had left her one thousand pounds and a note that she'd requested her to read in secret. It had contained nothing more than two words. <em>Find him</em>.</p>
<p>To this day, Freya didn't know who she was to find. Her only clue was that the person was a male.</p>
<p>The train of her thoughts changed tracks, bringing her back to how she'd spent her day. Superficially, her shopping trip with Samantha. Specifically? Her unarranged (?) rendezvous with the Walkers.</p>
<p>James Walker had a precocious, distinct aura around him, something that had invoked a <em>motherly </em>instinct inside her. Granted, she loved children and had a way with them, but Jamie was, apparently, her <em>own</em>.</p>
<p>And then there was Mr Walker. That man was a different ballgame. Never in her life had she felt so bowled over by a man. He'd given her a buddy-buddy (?) feeling in the <em>few</em> seconds (understatement of the century!) their eyes had locked. She was <em>almost </em>sure she'd met him before, and perhaps would've been convinced, too, if she didn't know better.</p>
<p>It was here that the train's compartments detached, with strong ropes joining the two parts; a <em>connection</em>. Ridiculous as it may sound, what she'd felt in those few minutes with the Walkers was almost <em>exactly</em> the same as what she felt when she was in her 'self-imagined-bizarre-hypothetical-<em>magical </em>reality' (Dr Mortimer's words, not hers). A boy there exuded the exact same charisma. It was the boy with the blurred face.</p>
<p>
  <em>Could it be?</em>
</p>
<p>The sound of the phone ringing butt in before she could scold herself for trying to draw parallels out of thin air.</p>
<hr/>
<p>David got up from his angry state after a few minutes and made for his room. He bolted the door and lied down, his hands locked behind his head as he tried to force his way out of the 'fuckingly-devilishly-deliriously-bloody-slimy goo' that his mind had mixed up. David Walker could brew you any coffee you want. But ask him to set his mind right, and he'd go jump off the top floor.</p>
<p>He needed to get out of this; there was no way he could allow Jamie to see him so acutely troubled.</p>
<p>
  <em>Grab some shots?</em>
</p>
<p>That was an idea: what better way to clear your mind than drink off all your worries? Not that he was a binge-drinker, but he had plenty of experience in that arena, with Rob and other buddies as companions.</p>
<p>He weighed the pros &amp; cons. Cons: he couldn't allow James to see him in his drunk state. <em>Anything else? </em>Not quite. Pros: (i) he would get to spend his time better than wanking off ridiculously sexy and out-of-league celebrities like some randy, hormonal teenager; (ii) he could get his mind off his dreamed-up magical reality; (iii) if he couldn't succeed in doing that, he could just flush it all out of his system with an extra bottle. So far, the pros seemed to outweigh the cons. What was the problem with a little hangover? Nothing that a few pills couldn't resolve. He could take the day off if it happened to be a bit serious. As for James, he could very well go to school and come back on his own. He could join one of his friends, or ask Mrs Little (the old lady next door). Food was not a problem; James knew enough about stoves &amp; fires to heat up whatever there was in the fridge. He'd be up by lunch anyway.</p>
<p>The time was two. Few nightclubs remain open that late; the ones that did were in the town centre. <em>God, I should've listened to Rob when he asked me to keep a bottle of Johnnie Walker handy.</em></p>
<p>Another thought struck him. <em>Hey, why not just call Rob? He keeps some, right? </em>He looked at the clock again. Four minutes past two. Late, but not for Rob, who happened to be a light sleeper. He went to sleep at around three or four and was up by seven, fresh as a songbird. David decided to give him a call.</p>
<p>He picked up the mobile phone on the nightstand and searched for Rob (he didn't remember his number). No result. He tried again. No result. Confused, he began scrolling through the contact list. <em>Sammy Jones, Jake Simpson, Olivia Spender - who're these people. How come they're on my phone? </em>He opened the inbox to find the same names and others, but not a single one he knew was there. He opened the reminders section. The latest one marked as '31 Oct: Shopping with Sammy'.</p>
<p>The phone in his hand was not his. He panicked. <em>If this is not my phone, whose is it!? Where's mine for God's sake!?</em></p>
<p>He got up and swept off the covers, frantically trying to look for his phone. He searched the whole room, the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room - heck, he even looked in Jamie's room, careful not to wake his sleeping form, but there was no sign of it. Nibbling his nails, he walked into his room and became overexcited upon finding the phone on his bed. He was about to lash himself for his carelessness when it turned out that he'd picked up the 'other' phone once again, not his. Angry, he threw it on the bad and clutched his hair to take away his brain's attention from screaming out loud.</p>
<p>He brought his hands to his face and completed a wiping motion, stopping at his nose. His glasses rested on the tips of his fingers as he sunk into the bed, trying to think of where his phone could be and from where did this alien one pop up.</p>
<p>He'd had it with him the entire morning. He'd had it when he was with Rob, too, for he remembered it beeping when some message arrived after Rob had left. It was in his pocket when he'd gone to pick Jamie up from school, and he'd had it when they'd set out to get his costume. That left only one place where he could've lost it: the costume shop or somewhere near it.</p>
<p>The memory of the costume shop brought the memory of Freya White back to the front of his mind, and, for a moment, he risked getting lost in it once again. Thankfully he shook his head at just the right time to get his brain to focus.</p>
<p>The young woman had walked up to them, and James had a picture clicked with her. She'd wanted to have one for herself as well, so she'd given him her phone. That's when it struck him.</p>
<p>He'd not returned her phone.</p>
<p>
  <em>That means ...</em>
</p>
<p>The one on his bed belonged to Freya White.</p>
<p>He swore under his breath. He had Freya White's phone, and she had his.</p>
<p>Bloody Hell.</p>
<p>As the realisation dawned upon him, he panicked for the umpteenth time. What was he supposed to do? She had his phone. He had hers. <em>What the -</em></p>
<p><em>Call her. </em>A voice said inside David's head. It was not his voice. It was not any voice he remembered hearing, for that matter, but still, it felt familiar.</p>
<p><em>Call her</em>, the voice repeated.</p>
<p>David sunk his face into his hands and remained like that for quite some time, trying the decide the course of action. Finally, steeling himself as much as he could, he freed one arm and reached for the alien contraption.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Freya was just starting to chastise herself when the phone rang. The first tune confused her. She looked at the clock. Ten past two. The confusion changed to bewilderment on the repeat. And by the third cycle, she felt irritated. <em>Who thinks this is the time to call? </em>Irritation changed to rage. Her anger towards herself began channelling into the one towards the caller. On the fourth and last repeat, she picked up the device, ready to kill with her tongue.</p>
<p>"Hello, er... am I ... am I - am I speaking to F-F-Freya W-White?" came a nervous voice from the other end.</p>
<p>"Yes," Freya answered plainly, feeding the bomb of fury with an ignition mixture of mellowness.</p>
<p>"Er ... yeah ... oh, um ... thank you, M-Miss White, for ... picking up."</p>
<p>"To the point, please."</p>
<p>"Oh, er ... er, th-thing is Miss White, er ... how do I say it ..."</p>
<p>"Are you done?"</p>
<p>"Er, sorry?"</p>
<p>"Are you done?"</p>
<p>"Er ... um, no (?) - no, I-I'm n-not done."</p>
<p>"Then do. Quickly."</p>
<p>"Er ... oh-OK ... yeah ... yes ... I-I should do it."</p>
<p>A few seconds passed in silence. When the caller began speaking again, nothing more than oh's and um's and 'thing is' came out.</p>
<p>"I'm waiting."</p>
<p>"Er ... yes-yes, you're-you're waiting."</p>
<p>The ignition mixture was now giving off sparks.</p>
<p>"Anything else?"</p>
<p>"Yeah-yeah ... er, anything else?"</p>
<p>Sparks changed to flames.</p>
<p>"I'm asking you if you have anything else to say."</p>
<p>"Oh, uh ..."</p>
<p>The flames channelled into a roaring fire. The bomb finally exploded.</p>
<p>"My turn now."</p>
<p>"Huh?"</p>
<p>"Listen, YOU GREAT BIG FUCKING ARSEHOLE! HAVE YOU GOT NO JOB!? CALLING A SANE GIRL AT TWO IN THE MORNING TO MAKE SHITTY SMALL TALK? Where did you get my number, huh? What do you do? Drugs? Mafia killings? I bet you're trying to track me down this very second. Think you're smart, huh, you and your fucking gang of thugs? I am gonna report this to the police!"</p>
<p>Silence.</p>
<p>"M-Miss -"</p>
<p>"FUCK OFF!" shouted Freya as she disconnected the call.</p>
<p>For a few seconds, she remained seated in bed, trying to catch her breath, which had become irregular due to the shouting. Never had she sworn so much in her life. She let go of the stiffness after some time and fell back, exhausted. The phone was still in her hand. She let her anger get subdued by the warmth and comfort of her plush bed.</p>
<p>As the anger ebbed away, she started feeling guilty. She'd just accused someone of being criminal, that too without proof. She wasn't as big a celebrity as some of the elite ones, but still, some people did know her. Anybody would feel awkward trying to talk to someone who has made the big screen.</p>
<p>
  <em>But still, why did that guy have to call at this unearthly hour?</em>
</p>
<p>Her question was answered by the phone once again. She brought it to her face and saw the same number. Some of the anger resurfaced. <em>Do some people seriously have no business? </em>Regardless, she picked up.</p>
<p>"Hello." Freya's voice oozed venom.</p>
<p>"Am I speaking to Freya White?" The voice was the same as before. Only this time it sounded calm &amp; composed.</p>
<p>"Look, if you're calling to waste my time once again -"</p>
<p>"Calm down, Miss White, calm down. I know I must've sounded like a bugger the last time, but please, trust me. It's important."</p>
<p>Freya grit her teeth. "Fine," she mumbled (hissed?). "Continue."</p>
<p>"All right. You were out for shopping, right?"</p>
<p>"Yes," she replied, her annoyance increasing.</p>
<p>"And I take it you visited a costume shop?"</p>
<p>The bloke was tickling the beast once again. "Look," Freya said, her voice sounding slightly dangerous. "If you're trying to sell me something, then this is perfectly not the right time t-"</p>
<p>"Please, Miss White, let me finish."</p>
<p>Freya rolled her eyes and shut them in anger. "Fine," she replied. Any more shit and she'd've exploded.</p>
<p>"OK, so, the thing is, I have your phone."</p>
<p>"What? Have you gone mad or some-"</p>
<p>"And you have mine."</p>
<p>She was baffled. <em>What the heck is this guy saying?</em></p>
<p>"If you do not believe me, check the phone number through which I'm calling."</p>
<p>She did, and for one moment she couldn't believe her eyes. The number was clearly hers. She swore under her breath. The vibrations of the contraption brought her back to Earth.</p>
<p>"Hello? Miss White? Hello?"</p>
<p>"But ... how?" she asked feebly.</p>
<p>"To answer that, I think I should introduce myself. You're speaking to David Walker."</p>
<p>
  <em>Walker?</em>
</p>
<p>"Remember? You spoke with my son James and had photos taken with him."</p>
<p>She did remember. How could she forget? It had hardly been ten hours, and that man had given her <em>something ...</em></p>
<p><em>But that still doesn't clear things! </em>"B-but th-that still - that still doesn't explain-"</p>
<p>"Our phones happen to be the same model. They got exchanged during the session, apparently."</p>
<p>She didn't believe it. <em>Is this some gigantic hoax? </em>She disconnected the call and opened the contacts section. Not a single name she knew was there. The inbox was empty. This was not her phone. She put it down.</p>
<p>She had the phone of the man that'd managed to make her go sleepless for the first time. And he had hers.</p>
<p><em>Holy fuck</em>.</p>
<p>She picked it up, frantically searched for the call logs and dialled the number from which the last call had been received. Mr Walker picked up on the second ring.</p>
<p>"Miss White, are you all right?"</p>
<p>"Tell me this is a scam. Tell me this is a hoax."</p>
<p>"Please, calm down, Miss White. This is not a hoax. It's true. Our phones got exchanged."</p>
<p>Silence.</p>
<p>"Miss White?"</p>
<p>"Yes," Freya answered feebly.</p>
<p>"We need to meet. We have to deal with this. While I'm not going to face that many problems, but I take that it might cause inconvenience to you without reason."</p>
<p>Silence.</p>
<p>"Miss White?"</p>
<p>"Huh? Oh-yes, yes."</p>
<p>"I think it'd be prudent if we meet tomorrow after eleven. Is it OK with you?"</p>
<p>"Hmm." She was only half-listening.</p>
<p>"I can come over to somewhere you choose." No response.</p>
<p>"Miss White, is everything all right?"</p>
<p>"Yes, yes, go on."</p>
<p>"So, d'you have any place in mind?" Again, no response.</p>
<p>"Miss White? Hello?"</p>
<p>"Yeah."</p>
<p>"I take that you don't have a suitable spot in mind. Might I make a suggestion?"</p>
<p>"Hmm," her voice came, sounding almost disinterested. Little did David know that she was by no way in hell disinterested.</p>
<p>"How about a coffee shop? I own one."</p>
<p>"Hmm, right." Freya sounded slightly drunk.</p>
<p>"Great. I'll send the address via SMS, OK?"</p>
<p>"Hmm."</p>
<p>It was the sound of the call disconnecting that pulled Freya out of her trance. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. <em>Huh?</em></p>
<p>As she took the surroundings in, things came back rushing into her mind. Her eyes widened as cognisance dawned upon her. She had completely missed the last part of the conversation. She was about to chastise herself when the feel of liquid on her skin made her stop. Her befuddlement increased and changed into shock when she realised what it was. She was <em>drooling.</em></p>
<p>'Her' phone beeped. It was a message from D. Walker (the number was, of course, still hers). She seemed unable to process why he was messaging her until she read the text. It seemed like an address.</p>
<p>She must've agreed to meet him there.</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p>
<p>On the other side of the now disconnected call, David Walker was wiping sweat off his face. He threw the phone away and spread his arms &amp; legs as he fell on the bed. It'd been a dauntingly difficult &amp; demanding task, talking to Freya White. He'd put on the best salesman tone he could brew. How he'd managed to keep it in place was beyond comprehension. Then it struck him. Freya White would be coming to his shop tomorrow.</p>
<p>
  <em>Holy moly fuck.</em>
</p>
<p>The rational part of his brain kicked in just at the right moment. <em>No way</em>, it said. <em>Think yourself a star, Walker? Are you so important she'd take time off to come to your shop? Nah ... she's gonna send some guy - yeah that's it. She'll send someone to take her phone back ... God, can't she come? It'd be so nice if she dropped by ... I - Wait a minute, why am I thinking of her? </em>He banged his head on the pillow (of course, the bangs were inaudible).</p>
<p><em>God, this never seems to end, right? </em>He grabbed the ends of the pillow and shut his ears tight, hoping to squeeze out all the shit about Freya White that was circling in his head.</p>
<p>A voice sounded in his head, and he could've sworn it was laughing. As it subsided, David heard something. <em>It won't end. </em>And then it became incomprehensible. The voice muttered under its breath (?). <em>It won't end, Potter ... oops! I mean Walker. It'll go on until you finally realise things.</em></p>
<hr/>
<p>David was royally grumpy when James woke him up before going to shower. His eyes were barely open and were full of sleep, for it'd been nearly five when his brain had relaxed enough to catch shut-eye. He lazily made for the kitchen and began working on breakfast very slowly, his hands doing the job for him as usual, leaving him free to get lost in his thoughts.</p>
<p>He breezed through the events of the previous day at a gingerly pace. James waking him up too early, the burnt eggs, the shop and the somewhat-weight-relieving chat with Rob, picking James up from school, lunch, shopping ...</p>
<p>His eyes began unclouding when those memories came to the front, and by the time he'd seen Freya White for the umpteenth time, they were fully open, all trace of sleep gone. Thinking of that meeting magically fuelled him. His hands began working so fast that a person couldn't've told whether he was frying eggs or squashing out juice or just trying to mix it all up and dish out a thick, slimy goo. Regardless, breakfast was ready in a (personal) record time of three minutes &amp; forty-seven seconds, as perfect as a typical English one could be.</p>
<p>James walked into the kitchen just as his father exited at hypersonic speed. He was dazed. He'd expected David to be still frying eggs, but he'd just left as if he'd a bullet train to catch, and if he was even a nanosecond late he'd miss it.</p>
<p>He walked up to the table and sat down to eat. He was half-way through his second egg when his father reappeared and began eating - no, <em>shovelling</em> - all of his food into his mouth. His fork stopped halfway to his mouth as his jaw opened slightly. There sat his father, the lazy David Walker, showered &amp; dressed in the best casual clothes he had. It had hardly been two minutes since James had started eating, and his father was already taking second helpings.</p>
<p>"Dad?"</p>
<p>"Yes?"</p>
<p>"Don't you think you're doing things <em>too </em>fast?"</p>
<p>David was puzzled. "No," he answered. "Why?"</p>
<p>"Because it's hardly been ten minutes since I woke you up."</p>
<p>"So?"</p>
<p>"You are lazy, Dad. The lazy, old (well, not so old) Daddy. And here you are, all showered &amp; dressed, shovelling breakfast in as if you have a train to catch."</p>
<p>David stopped. He looked at the clock (in case you haven't got it till now, there's one in each room except the bathroom). It'd been eleven minutes since James had woken him up, seven since his first step into the kitchen to make breakfast. In those seven minutes, he'd made breakfast, brushed his teeth, sailed through his morning ablutions and had nearly finished eating.</p>
<p>"Uh ... yeah ... I guess I've been, er, <em>fast </em>(?) ..." David replied, baffled and amazed at the same time.</p>
<p>James shook his head. "Sometimes," he said, "I think I'm your father and not the other way round."</p>
<hr/>
<p>For the first time in her life, Freya overslept. Not in terms of sleep duration, though, considering it was still a full two hours less than her strict eight-hour routine. But time waits for none, so it was nearly half past nine when she opened her eyes.</p>
<p>And now she was suffering (?) the consequences of her discomposed night, as it was messing with her day. She'd rushed through her exercises &amp; ablutions and was halfway through breakfast before she realised that she hadn't thought about <em>why </em>she was doing all of it at blitzkrieg speed. For it was only ten, and she had the whole day to herself, didn't she?</p>
<p>At that, the events of last night flooded her brain. The sleeplessness, the wandering thoughts, the unfamiliarly (!) familiar vibes she felt around David Walker, the phone calls, the phone exchange, her drooling over his voice like a randy sixteen-year-old teenage fangirl ...</p>
<p>In all this, she'd forgotten to check exactly where she was supposed to go. She was horribly nervous, but acting brings more than money. She tried her best to steel herself and put on a neutral-but-cheerful-in-a-girly-way mask. She opened the SMS folder and went through the address. <em>Forty minutes, traffic permitting</em>. She still had a few minutes at hand.</p>
<p>As she exited the folder she felt the devilish urge to check David's other messages. It was just like a teenage girl feeling the temptation to stalk her crush. She'd nearly opened his chat with Rob Atkinson when the rational part of her brain kicked in.</p>
<p>
  <em>Stop! Stop! Freya, you bitch! That's a blatant violation of privacy!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Just a peek ...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Just a little peek -</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>(With increased severity) No.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Just a tiny little infinitesimally small peek? </em>She could almost imagine her inner self putting on the puppy-eyes look.</p>
<p>
  <em>I SAID NO!</em>
</p>
<p>"Aargh!" she let out as she hastily punched the return key with her thumb and pocketed the phone. She got up and went to grab the car keys. Maybe she needed some air. The sunroof would have to retract.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Business was slow, as was becoming more &amp; more common as winter proceeded to unfurl its wings. David had set himself a hot drink and was sipping away reading a football magazine when the bells jingled. He looked up and took in a lot of coffee in shock, spraying it all over the magazine, the table and his work apron in the process of expelling it. He'd convinced himself that someone would be coming on her behalf, but he'd been wrong.</p>
<p>"Mr Walker!" Freya sounded worried as she looked around for something to help him. She spotted a few plastic glasses and a water dispenser. Rushing, she grabbed a glass and filled it. She turned back to walk to David and spent a moment deciding whether to touch him or not. She placed a hand on his back, but perhaps it was too close to the exposed skin of his neck for comfort, for she felt light tingles and his frantic coughing intensified.</p>
<p>She placed the glass on the table and patted David's back lightly (careful to keep as far away as possible from his neck) as he tried to regain his breath. She withdrew her hand when he did. He grabbed the glass of water and chugged it down in one breath.</p>
<p>"Thank you," he uttered, glancing towards her to take her in. She'd yet again managed to create those casual-yet-extremely-charming vibes. On the other hand, he, ever being the clumsy local oaf he was, had managed to present himself as the dickhead standing atop the pinnacle of moronic success.</p>
<p>"Please don't mention it," came the reply. Freya was surprised at the fact that her mask had not worn off, and that she'd not forgotten her manners amidst the awkwardness.</p>
<p>A few seconds passed before David thought that maybe he should clean up the mess. He got up.</p>
<p>"I-I ... I'll just ... I'll be back," he managed to articulate while fidgeting nervously before he hurriedly walked away. Freya stood there and tried to tighten her mask, as she found herself squirming slightly.</p>
<p>David returned with a cloth &amp; a spray bottle and began to clean the mess nervously. Freya stood there, watching. She took him in as his hands worked. The heater was on, so he was without uppers and was in half-sleeves. She couldn't resist checking him out. Neither too short nor too tall ... not overly muscular, moderately toned ... veins visible, flexing ... strong arms - <em>What?</em></p>
<p>Her mask fell as she caught herself doing <em>that </em>once again.</p>
<p>"Er ... Miss White?" Her gaze snapped towards his face, and for a moment, they both risked getting lost in each other's eyes before she broke the eye contact. "Uh?"</p>
<p>"M-maybe ... maybe, y-you know, you'd-you'd like to sit down?"</p>
<p>She wriggled, rubbing her hands and looking in every direction except the one where he was.</p>
<p>"Miss White?"</p>
<p>"Oh! Er-um-yeah, yeah I'd-I'd like to sit down." She hurriedly grabbed the nearest chair and sunk into it.</p>
<p>David returned after putting things in their places and washing his hands. He sat down gingerly. "Maybe you should - I mean you'd like to - you know - remove your ... er - coat"</p>
<p>"Er ... yeah," she giggled nervously as she took it off and put it on the chair. Several moments passed without a sound except the dampened ones coming from outside. Both squirmed uneasily in their seats. To an outsider, they'd've looked just like a couple of nervous teens who'd been tortured into dating by their best friends. Just some de-ageing (and apron removal), and no one could've told the difference.</p>
<p>David shot up all of a sudden causing Freya to let out a light yelp and jerk. "Er, sorry," he apologised nervously. "I-I think - maybe - maybe I should get you something." Freya remained stiff. "M-Miss White?" (cliché)</p>
<p>She nodded robotically at a supersonic rate.</p>
<p>"Er, so ... a long black?"</p>
<p>The same superfast mechanical nod.</p>
<p>He came back ten minutes later carrying a tray with two mugs and set it down with trembling hands. He was afraid that the coffee might taste horrible but felt it was excusable. One had to consider the levels of fidgeting he was doing while brewing it.</p>
<p>Freya had somewhat recovered and took hold of the mug in front of her. None of the two was feeling comfortable enough to drink. They spent several minutes looking everywhere but at each other, futilely trying to bring the pointer on the discomfiture meter down from 110 (!) to 0.</p>
<p>It might have been on 105 when Freya, at last, took a sip. She set the mug down and announced, "I'm going."</p>
<p>David snapped out his daze and looked straight into her eyes. "Sorry?" he asked. She hurriedly lowered her orbs and tried her best not to blush as the pointer escalated once again. "Er, I-I ... I was ... thinking - maybe I-I ... I should leave ..."</p>
<p>"Oh, y-yeah, yeah, fine. You have my permission ...(<em>why would anyone need my permission?</em>) I mean y-you can lea - you should - you're free - feel free to leave."</p>
<p>She got up and left with a funny charge in her step.</p>
<p>David kept looking at the door for a few seconds before letting out a nervous sigh and reaching for his mug. But the bells jingled once again just as his fingers brushed the handle. He was horrified upon seeing something make a mad dash for him. He let out a very unmanly shriek and jumped out of his chair before realising that the thing was alive, human, female and Freya White.</p>
<p>"I-I just came back for this," said a panting Freya as she took her coat off the chair. Without another word, she turned and almost <em>ran</em> out of the shop, as if it were on fire.</p>
<p>A baffled David kept standing in that position, trying to process what had happened. Unfortunately (thankfully?), a flurry of customers gave him little time to dwell on it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>That night as David and Freya hit the bed in their respective homes, they automatically reached for their phones, for they both knew trying to sleep would be futile and that telling their best friends about the day might be a more productive option (subconsciously, they both hoped for their best friends' tirades, which they knew were a certainty, to put them to sleep). They searched for Rob's and Samantha's numbers, respectively; in vain. They scrolled down the logs; no success. They went through each number on the contact list; utterly futile. And then it dawned upon them.</p>
<p>Seriously?</p>
<p>
  <em>Holy fuck.</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>A/N: This one felt okayish to me. Drop/post/pin your views.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Ciao!</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>#HarmioneForever</strong>
</p>
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